[log] Lean on me [closed]

[zunesareawesome]

Characters: The Sorcerer Not-Yet-Supreme, Star-Cat, Star-Lord, and the Librarian
Location: Building 318 and various
Date: Day 339-343
Summary: The visiting of Flynn Carsen to the clan of Snow.
Warnings: References to character death, drowning, blood (because this is a scary building), more CW's in ensuing threads.




318: The stench of blood is thick in this garage, with blood long-soaked into the concrete floor, staining nearly the entire expanse. There are empty wooden tables to be sat on if you would rather not sit on the floor, though they've all been flipped as if in anger. One of the tables has been broken into pieces and burned, and another has pieces missing as if someone had begun to break it into pieces but was interrupted. The whole place has a hostile air to it, and the walls sound like they're breathing at night. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TWO, CONTACT @LELRIC FOR ANY ASSISTANCE." "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY SIX, PLEASE CALL @LELRIC FOR ANY ASSISTANCE NEEDED." and "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT, FOR ANY ASSISTANCE PLEASE CONTACT @LELRIC ANY TIME." are written on one of the walls.

Comments

OTA; cw drug use and addiction p. much always

[thewarningafter]

This...isn't exactly Stephen's first choice of places to meet. When they get in he briefly contemplates turning one of the tables back over only to decide it isn't worth the energy and set his things down on its underneath side instead. He finds his hand slipping into his pocket to clasp the baggie of pills inside, struggles with himself a moment, then lets himself leave his hand there to feel the pills through the plastic as he does a brief check around the building, counting them off in his head. He's looking haggard and worn these days, sweaty and shaky and sleepless.

That doesn't seem likely to change tonight.

[cahooted]

"How's the hand?"

Having spotted Stephen roaming around the house Flynn moves over to greet him properly once he has (reluctantly) stored his gear (without letting too much of it touch the nasty ground). He smiles; it's good to see him, really see him and outside a creepy telepathic murder pit.

Still, Flynn can tell he is not well and his condition immediately sends a pang of worry and guilt through him; with his focus so strongly on Peter he hadn't really thought about the state the other man would be in. Well, time to change that.

[thewarningafter]

Stephen's right hand, the one splinted and wrapped, hangs by his side. He still doesn't withdraw his left hand from his pocket. He looks distant and confused for just a second, like he somehow wasn't expecting a question along those lines.

"It isn't any worse," he says with a shrug. "Prognosis is decent."

The red lines that outline all of his scars are mostly hidden with his clothing on. A few peek out from the ends of his sleeves, and they've only just begun to creep up his neck and under his beard.

[cahooted]

Okay, so on second thought – maybe not the best greeting in the book. Especially with the... everything else that seems to ail the sorcerer. At Stephen's confused stare Flynn hovers awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He notices the lines here and there, too, and with a sinking feeling. That must mean that at some point Stephen had jumped as well. When? How? Could Flynn have prevented it? Should he bring it up?

Maybe later.

"It's good to see you, Stephen. How are you holding up?"

ota

[cahooted]

When Flynn arrives he shoves the door open forcefully with the relieved energy of someone who is really glad to get out of the snow and cold. Pausing in the doorway he huffs, shaking himself like a dog to get the excess snow of his clothes and hair. Only then does he stop to take a look around. He hadn't bothered to check the map for details when it came to their meeting place and man, that's the last time he's making that mistake.

Well, this is just great. So much for a nice gathering where he can reassure and comfort Peter.

cw ptsd, refs to self harm (continued for rest of thread)

[zunesareawesome]

Peter's dozing off the the side, curled up on one of the overturned tables because the floor was just--no. He hasn't been getting much (any) sleep since Bluestar died, always waking up after a short time in a jolt of fear that he was too late. Still, he was tired enough that he's been catching an hour or two before jolting awake, even though he doesn't want to sleep, he doesn't need to sleep, it's fine--

And he jolts awake again, when he finally hears Flynn moving around.

"Wha--" his eyes are wide and for a second he looks completely terrified and baffled to where he is, but then he remembers suddenly and--

"Flynn." His shoulders relax and he sounds utterly relieved. He manages a wan smile, look, he hasn't smiled in days even. You're here, bro! This is terrible circumstances but also great!

Peter sits up, and rubs his face, his left sleeve moving to reveal that he no longer has bandages, but a hint of the fresh scarring peeking through. He takes the earbuds out of his ears, and turns off his Zune.

[cahooted]

There he is! Flynn wasn't sure if he would get here first and was ready to prepare some food for their arrival but looks like they beat him to it. "Peter, hey."

He brightens and returns the smile, even though the scarring on his friend's arm is like a stab to the face. Seeing it now in person makes it real in a horrible, overwhelming way. Somewhere under that sleeve there's Flynn's name on that arm and he honestly can't deal with any of the emotions that brings right now. He has no idea or plan when, how and if to bring it up but planning has never been his strong suit; he'll get to that point when or if it comes up.

For now he's just heading over to meet Peter and yeah, you're definitely getting a hug, buddy. He's still cold from the travels and wind chill but he's forgotten all about that for now. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

[zunesareawesome]

"Nah, it's cool--I'm up--" Also thanks for saving him from more nightmares, buddy! Peter gets up, and you're getting another bear hug in return, bro. He's just gonna be polite about how it's like hugging Frosty the Snowman.

"It's so good to see you, man."

Unfortunately Peter's pretty much covered in red lines by now. They make their way across in an electrical, lightning-like pattern. He's tried not to think about it so much, but seeing Flynn suddenly here--

Oh, d'ast.

"You still have your crowbar, right? In case something happens?" He knows he's got some kind of MN poisoning from what the Admin told him, which was, y'know, scary, but he doesn't think he's being paranoid at all, this is a legit worry--

[absentconstellation]

The Cat is curled up among the bags on one of the overturned tables when Flynn opens the door. He glances up briefly to see who it is before setting his head down again and closing his eyes.

His tail flips lazily in acknowledgement of the man.

[cahooted]

For a split second Flynn freezes when he sees the feline shape in the penumbra. But didn't she-- oh. Right! It's the other cat. Flynn remembers the last time they have spoken and his amazement, his bafflement at the conversation. It feels like a lifetime ago and suddenly he wonders if the city is taking away his sense of wonder one day at a time.

It's not a nice thought. He pushes it away.

"Oh, hey. Good evening. It's been a while."

[absentconstellation]

Yes hello it is the original talking cat. The one made of stars. He doesn't look up (or, incidentally, move his mouth) to speak.

"Good evening. I trust you have no trouble getting here."

For Peter; OTA for anyone who wants to join the bedtime story party \o/; night

[cahooted]

Flynn has placed his fake bearskin rug over one of the overturned tables to make it a little more comfortable and he's not taking no for an answer; Peter is getting the extra layer tonight. But he's setting himself down next to him, wrapped in his blanket, using one of the table's legs to rest his back against. It's almost like a crossover between a pajama party and a child's game, overturning the table and pretending you're sailing on a... sea of... blood, yeah, no, maybe not.

Having recognized just how mentally and physically exhausted his friend is Flynn decides what he really needs is a good night's sleep; hopefully with the nightmares down to a minimum. And what do you do when you can't fall asleep?

That's right. It's story time.

After all, stories are the world's greatest distraction and tonight Peter is getting them all. Thinking back of the most vivid and captivating ones his Dad used to tell him when he wouldn't fall asleep, Flynn starts out simple enough but he's soon really getting into it, using different voices and dramatic gestures as the room fills with tales of faraway places and magical travels and adventure. "So the next one is called 'The Wandering Treasure Chest'."

\o/

[zunesareawesome]

This is the coolest fake boat sailing on a sea of...not blood, as Peter's all super comfy in his sleeping bag and the rug, his head on his throw pillow, as he listens intently to all these great stories. This is awesome, he hasn't been told bedtime stories since...Yondu, probably, even though Yondu's stories were just attempts to get him to shut up and go to sleep and mostly...pretty violent accounts of some epic heists. His mom used to read to him too, until he got older and wanted to hear about...well, more exciting things, like what happened to Luke after the end of Return of the Jedi.

Peter's hanging onto every word, as many adventures as he's actually been on, there's nothing like letting his imagination run wild at a good story. He's getting sleepy, sure, but he also, much like he did when he was a kid, was doing his best to hang on and stay awake.

Maybe the nightmares would stay away tonight.

"Is it about pirates?" Pirate stories were the best! Especially since that kind of was his life!

[cahooted]

Flynn chuckles. "Now if I told you, that would spoil the story, wouldn't it? But stay attentive, there might be some pirates involved at some point."

He clears his throat. A big part of stories is the ceremony of it after all.

"There was once a Treasure Chest. It was a very secret Treasure Chest, hidden far, far away in a deep, secret place, full of traps and riddles and puzzles. The Treasure Chest knew that all of this was in place just to secure it and that made it a bit arrogant. 'I'm very important', it thought. 'All of this is in place just for me.' And it knew that one day, an adventurer or maybe a pirate ship--" He makes a bit of an emphasis there, glancing over at Peter with a see, I told you expression. "-- would come for it. So the Treasure Chest waited."

A pause.

"And it waited. And waited. And it waited for a very long time." He frowns. "But nobody came. No adventurers. No pirates. 'Maybe I'm hidden too well', it thought. 'Maybe that's the reason.' And it waited again. At some point moss started growing on it and the Chest complained 'Hey! What are you doing?'"

At this point Flynn is cranking up the pitch because moss is small, so of course it has a much brighter voice than the big, heavy Treasure Chest. 'Well, you have been sitting here for so long! And you'll be here for so much longer. Why shouldn't we?' Oh, that's it, thought the Treasure Chest. If nobody comes looking for me, I'll go look for them. So it got up, and it walked towards the exit. Of course the moss complained 'no, no, what are you doing' but the Chest wouldn't listen. It got to the third chamber where the Flame Traps were. And the Flame Traps looked at the Chest in confusion."

Again, he changes his voice, now to a breathy, hissy whisper. "'What'sssss that, what are you doing out here? Get back into your room.' And the Treasure Chest said 'No. The Treasure Hunters aren't finding me, so I will find the Treasure Hunters.' And the Flame Traps laughed with a hissing sound that smelled like sulfur and said 'You can't do that. That is not how the story goes.' But the Treasure Chest ignored them and their hissy voices and it went on its way."

Day 340

[zunesareawesome]

 

Day 341

[zunesareawesome]

 

OTA! (cw refs to previous character deaths)

[zunesareawesome]

When Peter wakes up that morning, he doesn't realize that his eyes are completely red. He's oblivious as he whistles and goes to the bathroom for a drink of water--he's been in a far better state than he has been. Mostly by actively not thinking of the circumstances of Blue's death and his responsibility in it, he's always been Mr. Denial, but what the Admin had said about 'confirming death' had given him a new sort of hope. Even though with every day that passes and she's not back, a little more of that hope dies.

Rocket's still not back.

But having Stephen, Flynn, and the Cat around had really helped support him, and he was working through it. He wasn't there yet, if Blue doesn't come back he might never get there, wherever the proverbial there was, and if Rocket didn't come back he would never get there no matter if they got back home or not, but he was...better.

And better was more than he could hope for in a place like this, in a time like this.

So of course, when he catches sight of his eyes in a reflection, there's a wild yell.

"The hell happened to my eyes?!"

Day 342

[zunesareawesome]

 

OTA! (After Flynn's network post) cw self-harm, blood throughout threads

[zunesareawesome]

A.

It takes Peter a little while to break out of Stephen's prison, thanks Stephen-- (when tomorrow happens he's going to appreciate the fact that he got at least a couple hours of not giving away pieces of himself) --but also he was thinking in there about what John sad. Protecting Flynn. And fighting with the impulse to share.

But John was clearly untrustworthy too, he took pictures of everybody, like...and he said he wasn't sure if he was under the influence of something.

Then again, the pain and the weird...taking, that couldn't be good. Unless they were breaking through to something, and that was just a side-effect? Like a good kind of side-effect, it meant that whatever it was was working, and that they could finally find answers.

The smile behind his eyes prompts him. He needs to get out of here, he needs to find Flynn. Maybe together they can beat this stupid thing, even if Stephen didn't want to play along. If John was wrong, they were gonna miss this chance. And they had to take this chance. They didn't get very many of these.

Peter exits the room.

"Pssst! Hey, Flynn?"

B.

Peter sits by himself in a corner of the house, huddled under his sleeping bag, listening to his Zune. He looks drawn and slightly ill. That's the blood loss, for one. But it wasn't just what he looked like, what he felt like was an even worse story.

He leans with his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a moment.

Something's gone, something intangible, something inside him has been picked at, plucked, eaten away. Like when Ego had used him to power the expansion. The light inside felt been used for something else. Maybe it was parts of his soul itself.

A.

[cahooted]

Flynn is very busy. The sense of accomplishment that comes with every new bit and piece he obtains has worked him into a high; the more he takes the more he needs. He's been waiting for so long to feel like this. All in all he's made good progress. John's intervention was annoying, sure (and so was the lingering almost-realization that he was hurting people) but he was getting somewhere, no matter what they said.

When he comes face to face with the red-eyed Peter again he almost recoils, his first impulse being to throw a chair at him. At the same time the urge to take some more samples becomes overwhelmingly strong now that they're in the same room again. Still, self-preservation prevails and he looks up from his tablet with a carefully guarded neutral expression. Not trying to give away how much Peter actually freaks him out.

He glances around quickly to see if Stephen is nearby and then, fighting down his fear, waves him over.

"Did you break out?"

B

[thewarningafter]

Stephen hasn't wanted to talk to Flynn, hasn't wanted to be where he can hear the man hounding people for information...hasn't wanted to be where he can hear Peter trying to get out of the bedroom Stephen had barricaded him into.

He should have stayed. It wasn't good enough. His footsteps grow faster as he comes to the door to find it pried open, and when his gaze lands on Peter (whether Peter has returned to his 'prison' or found another place since breaking out) Stephen's jaw is tight and his brow furrowed somewhere between anger, guilt, and sorrow.

Day 343

[zunesareawesome]

 

ota; cw throwing up

[cahooted]

A.

The paralysis takes its usual time but there's nothing usual about it. Flynn is trapped in his body in the wake of a dawning realization, horror washing over him when his mind snaps back into lucidity. Part of him wishes this would take longer, wishes he could just lie here forever, because he is unprepared for what comes after, to face what has happened, what he has done.

The memory of taking, taking so much from so many people; providing others a platform to take even more; the sick sense of accomplishment it brought, of helping, of finally doing something right--

Hurting people. Hurting his friends. Coming here to help Peter, to try and make him feel better, to be there for him and now...

I'm not feeling great, Flynn.

- and Peter gasping in pain -

I know you think you're helping, Flynn, but you need to fight this.

- and Peter giving him his blood and it's important and he needs more -

It's like a weird burning? But like... loss?

Flynn, are - are you aware of what you're doing to me right now?

When he can finally move he rolls over with a gasp, half-crawling, half-stumbling over to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he throws up. Afterwards, he stands hunched over the sink, clinging to the rim and letting the cold water run over the back of his head. It's freezing and hurts his skull but he stands, breathing heavily into the trickles running down his face, as if waiting for the memories to wash away.



B.

He's packing his things quickly, quietly. The movements are wild, frantic, his face pale and upset while he stuffs everything into his bags carelessly, not even taking the usual time to find the most efficient way to store things.

The only impulse right now is to run.

A. cw throwing up

[zunesareawesome]

Peter wakes up, slightly confused, as yesterday's events slowly make their way back into his consciousness when he's paralyzed. No injection though, it seems like? That's weird. Once he can, he sits up, his sleeping bag rustling as he does so, frowning.

The compulsion's not there anymore, and in its absence--and a stranger, deeper absence he can't quite put his finger on--he realizes what's been happening.

Damn it!

"Flynn!?" he scrambles out of his sleeping bag, kicking it away from his feet as he gets up, almost tripping. He scarcely registers that the lines haven't disappeared, but that doesn't matter now--

--the sound of water running catches his attention and he runs to the bathroom--

"Flynn." Peter's there in the doorway, his eyes still weirdly red.

B

[thewarningafter]

"I'm going to hazard a guess that Peter's already told you it wasn't your fault," says Stephen quietly from where he lurks in the doorway, still a crisscrossing map of red lines over muscle groups, pale blue eyes still pale blue.