snowblindrpg | [log] Lean on me [closed]

Entry tags:

[log] Lean on me [closed]

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Edited 2018-03-24 15:29 (UTC)

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.

Edited 2018-03-24 16:23 (UTC)

At Peter's voice Flynn freezes, eyes going wide as he watches the water swirl down the drain. He comes up with a jerk -- bangs the back of his head on the faucet because of course he does -- and grimaces before grabbing his towel and rubbing at his head and face. His heart is hammering wildly in his chest and he can't bring himself to look at Peter until he catches the red out of the corner of his eye.

When he realizes that Peter still has the lines, still has the eyes he whirls around, staring at him, backing off. "G-go away, Peter. You have to stay away from me."

Ouch, did he just hit his head on the thing--

"I'm not goin' anywhere, bro."

He steps closer, into the doorway. "I mean, if anything happens, I can take you."

Peter catches his own reflection, seeing that his eyes are still red. Damn it! What was going on?

He backs off further into the room, shaking his head violently.

"If anything happens? If anything happens?!" His arms come up, voice rising with the first hint of the agitation hidden underneath. "I don't know about you but I'd say it already happened. It's-- it's still happening! Go away!"

Peter holds his hands up. "Do you feel anything like, like a compulsion or something? The same thing from yesterday? Because self-awareness means this thing is over."

Well, to an extent. His eyes are still red and he still has the lines.

"Whatever happened yesterday--that wasn't you, okay? Believe me, I've done this song and dance before. And it sucks.. Nobody should have to go through it. And I'm--I'm sorry for playing along." His voice hitches. "John tried to warn me. I should have protected you, instead of joinin' in." He shakes his head. "But we haven't killed each other and we're still here so--so that's something, okay?"

Flynn starts pacing, his hand drawing a circle in the air. "No, no, no, no... You're still marked. Which means this isn't over."

Which means whatever happened, whatever Flynn had helped set into motion, is still coming. This was real. This was happening. The last times he had gone through these things they had turned out to be imaginary; he had woken up and had horrors transformed into memories, fake futures and events that lingered in his head, yes, but that he could push away as figments, as things that had not really happened.

This here happened.

This here was real. Is real.

And Peter keeps talking to him and then he mentions John, John who had tried so hard to stop him and Flynn had thrown him under the bus in return, defaming him on the network, and why is Peter still talking to him--

"Stop it! Stop telling me things!"

Peter freezes. He just stares--and he's worried that it's a creepy, inhuman stare--but his brows are furrowed and red eyes nonwithstanding, looks sad. He feels partly to blame, Flynn was here and he should have protected him and he failed, he should have listened to Stephen and John but he didn't--

--and as much as he wanted to say the right words to make it all better. But he can't.

What can he possibly say to make this better?

Maybe Flynn's right and he's in danger right now from him. That weird emptiness, the ragged, frayed feeling in his core, in his soul--

But Peter's stubborn, and he shakes his head.

"Okay. Okay, just..."

A sigh.

"Please don't blame yourself."

At his words Flynn feels the most inappropriate, hysterical urge to laugh and he keeps pacing up and down, feeling trapped with Peter lingering in the doorway but unwilling to approach and try to push past him.

Think, think, he needs to think, he can't feel right now, he needs to focus and try to keep it together. He shouldn't talk to Peter. Maybe what he did would still happen, maybe it would come back, maybe--

"I'm sorry." He stops pacing, hand pressed against his mouth, eyes suddenly stinging and he takes a couple of deep breaths until he trusts his voice again. "I-I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't-- I thought I was helping. I just wanted to help."

“No, don’t—don’t apologize, you have nothin’ to apologize for. That’s what this town is, that’s what this town does. It hits everybody right where it hurts. Just so happened this time it was a perfect storm and you got caught in the middle of it. That’s all.”

Peter’s voice is adamant. Steady.

“I wanted to help too. It wasn’t just you. I thought...I thought it was the best way to get answers.”

Answers.

The word circles in his head. Answers, knowledge, learning. Yes, he remembers the overwhelming urge for that, to solve the riddle, to be the one to figure it all out. Because that's what he does, that's what the Librarian does, right? So smart. So knowledgeable. Hubris, Graham's voice mocks him from somewhere and Flynn's heart breaks a little just there because that's what it was, wasn't it?

Peter's calm, no-nonsense voice helps a little to pull him out of his head and the spiraling thoughts but it's hard, like a vortex pulling him under. It angers him, too, because how can Peter say that? How can he say Flynn has nothing to apologize for? There's a pressure building behind his ears as he tries to keep it all in and contained, to figure out what to do next.

"Look, I--I appreciate what you're doing, I really do, but, we just, a lot of things happened and we, we really should look at the facts? And, and if you look at the facts then the facts are that you still have the lines and if you still have the lines that means I might still be dangerous."

"You're not danger..."

A pause.

"Okay, yeah. I'm not gonna lie. You really might be. But then again, so am I. Who knows? I might be the one to..." He sighs. He'd been so worried that the ones with the red lines--that he might be the one to attack or hurt people, it didn't occur to him that the opposite could happen.

"Can we just...I know you're not okay, man. But if I can help...make things a little better, please. I want to help. Even if you just want to talk. Or if you want me to leave you alone right now, I'll do it. Just...I didn't want you to be alone in...this."

He leans against the doorframe.

"One of worst feelings in the world, right? Like you're all alone in your wrongness, this weakness that you let the town get to you. That you hurt people and you can't ever take it back, can't ever make it right. Can't ever square it."

Edited 2018-03-25 15:09 (UTC)

cw ptsd, self-harm

cahooted - 2018-04-20 21:37 (UTC) - Expand

"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.

At Stephen's voice Flynn freezes, current piece of gear slipping from his hands. His face goes through a quick myriad of expressions - panic, pain, shame - before he drops his gaze.

"He, uh. He did. He did that? But you're still..." Gesture towards the lines. "... so I might still..."

He snaps his mouth shut with a pained expression.

"Or we might, the next time," Stephen points out. "We knew that. We all knew that when we decided not to split up when we saw what was happening to me and Peter. All of us made this choice together."

He's...not making the best argument for Flynn to stay, is he?

"And we were wrong," Flynn says sharply, fingers digging into the fabric of his blanket as he picks it back up. "I shouldn't have come here."

Not that separating would have done anything to stop the mess that had happened on the network but that's another can of worms altogether.

"Peter even told me to stay away from him and I came here anyway to help him and I--" He exhales softly. "I hurt him. Badly."

"So that makes two of us," says Stephen, gaze sliding out of eye contact. "I won't blame you if you need to leave, but you wouldn't be hurting him by staying."

Which is absolutely Stephen's call to make, right?

"How would you know? How can you be so sure?"

He shakes his head. "Clearly this... whatever this is... it isn't over. What if tomorrow I decide I need even more from him?"

"Then I'll stop you this time," replies Stephen more sharply. He's losing ground here, can't quite convince himself that Flynn's actually wrong, but that much he's got to make himself certain of.

That makes him pause. For a moment the fight goes out of him and his shoulders slump as he brings up a hand to rub at his forehead.

"I... It was bad." His voice is quiet. "He'll probably act like it wasn't but it was. I really hurt him, Stephen. Deeply. I... probably hurt him worst of all." He sits down on the couch, staring at his hands. "I know it's not my fault, I know that, but-- but if I stay and it happens again..."

Stephen goes quiet. "I know," he says softly. All of it -- the way Peter hides pain, ignores it like he can make it go away like that. It had been selfish of Stephen to stay with him after their shared memories of how he'd tortured Peter in the tower in another life. That Flynn can't bring himself to do the same probably means he's a better man.

"If you stay and it happens again it won't be any more your fault than it was the first time," he argues. "We can't predict what this place is going to do. One day it hurts us when we're together, the next we get hurt because we're alone."

"If I stay I'll just make him... withdraw and pretend everything's fine and it's not, it's not fine, this is--" He pauses when his voice raises involuntarily and closes his eyes until the moment passes.

"If I go he might, maybe you can, maybe he'll... talk about it, eventually. With someone."

Stephen can't meet Flynn's eyes. Isn't that exactly what he's done to Peter? What he's done to himself as well, in a way? Neither of them have ever been good at actually dealing with the things that are wrong with them.

"If you go I'll be alone with him once the kids pick up the Cat," he says quietly. "I don't know that I'm any better for him."

Day 343

ota; cw throwing up

A. cw throwing up

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B

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