Event: Consolidation Theory, Part One and Two

[snowblindmods]

Characters: red-marked characters
Location: ???
Date: Morning & Day 353
Summary: You wake up in a cell.
Warnings: general horror warnings; please note in subject lines for anything specific that comes up

Consolidation Theory OOC Post
Part Two OOC Post

Comments

[zunesareawesome]

[Either the air was getting slowly sucked away from his cell--terrifying--or he was hyperventilating. Hopefully the latter.]

Hey, Stephen? Just breathe with me. In and out, real slow-like, okay?

[When he was a kid and woke up sometimes at night screaming and couldn't breathe, Yondu had sat with him and said the same thing. He was still terrified of Yondu then, but it had helped.]

[thewarningafter]

Nnngh.

[He has little choice right now -- little he can do other than control his breathing or go on like he is until he blacks out. He's still off in that other place, but even so Stephen knows enough about his own body, about how all of this works, to know that Peter -- it's Peter, where did he put his tablet, where is it coming from? -- is right. He starts to gain control over the cadence; his breaths are still too fast, too deep, too ragged, but it's the raggedness that comes of forcing them slower and slower. At some point he sinks to the floor, his vision narrowed to a pinprick of white directly in front of him.]

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter waits a little while, but he's nervous and he imagines Stephen somehow passed out in his cell there...he calls out after he thinks an appropriate amount of time has passed.]

...You okay now?

[thewarningafter]

[No. He's never going to be okay again -- they'll cut him and cut him and cut him and leave him blind --]

Play us -- we need a song. We need another song, Peter.

[zunesareawesome]

I-I don't have my Zune. [He suddenly sounds lost, as if the reality of being here, in the cells instead of outside, is finally sinking in.]

They took my Zune, those are my songs! They belong to me! [He's kicking the force field and it's pointless and it hurts.]

[thewarningafter]

[It hits him like a physical blow to his gut.]

What -- what did you do, you have to -- you're supposed to be there for us --

[zunesareawesome]

[You're supposed to be there for us--

Peter stops ranting as those words sink in. He's argued with Stephen endlessly before but this is different. That stings on a different level.]

...it wasn't my fault! I didn't do anything. And I'm trying to be!

[He keeps trying and he keeps failing over and over again--]

[thewarningafter]

You lost it...you lost it....

[He's absolutely devastated, not even cognizant of the hurt he's causing Peter with his words. They needed the music. The music kept them alive, kept them sane; if they don't have the music or his voice on the radio how can Stephen survive this?]

cw ptsd, cancer, character deaths continued through rest of thread

[zunesareawesome]

[I lost it.

Yondu's last gift.

His Walkman, squashed by Ego, cruelly.

I lost it, it's gone.

Digging frantically in the snow trying to save it, Gamora trying to save him, pushing her through the door and it slams shut and now he's dead--

He tried so hard to save it and now it's gone.]

I lost it.

[Peter's voice breaks and he slides down the side of the wall, the barrier, feeling cold despite the temperature, feeling like he was being drained of his life, the Light taking it from him, his father crushing his memories of his mother and--

--it's so cold and he's freezing but she's safe and she's okay but he's dying--]

It's gone.

[thewarningafter]

I can't...I can't, without the music I can't, not again....

[The interminable hours of waiting, the pain, the demand that he fill the mold when they break him to force him into it--he needs a link, he needs help, he can't do this alone and there's no DJ Starlord this time, no rescue coming--]

[zunesareawesome]

[Peter needs to help him, he hates the way Stephen sounds so utterly lost, as lost as he is himself he can't let Stephen down--]

...maybe we can--maybe we can make our own music?

[His Zune is gone his Zune is gone--

He starts making a beat by knocking his knuckles against the wall.]

[thewarningafter]

[Stephen's breath keeps catching in his throat. Make their own. Make their own.]

I've paid my dues
Time after time--

[He's a little too raw to make a good Freddie Mercury.}

[zunesareawesome]

I've done my sentence,
But committed no crime...

[The words come out instantly, he knows this song real well, and if that's what Stephen needs, then he's gonna sing as best he can. He does his best to be in tune, at least.]

[thewarningafter]

And bad mistakes
I've made a few
I've had my share of sand kicked in my face
But I've come through

[He's evening out, at least. Breathing well enough that he's able to sing, even if it comes out sounding a little too desperate.]

[zunesareawesome]

And I need to go on-and-on-and-on--

Weeee are the champions, my fri-heh-ends--

[Yes, he's doing his best direct impersonation now, including starting to do air guitar, closing his eyes and listening to the music in his head.]

[thewarningafter]

And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions

[Stephen's eyes are shut tight against his reality, belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs. Peter's singing is...different than House's.]

[zunesareawesome]

[Yep, definitely different from House's. Please accept his now-over-enthusastic warblings and vocalizations of the guitar bits.]

No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions of the woooooooooooooooooooooorld!

[thewarningafter]

[And Stephen breaks into breathless, slightly hysterical laughter.]

[zunesareawesome]

[He's not so sure if that's entirely a good thing or a bad thing.]

...glad you liked it.

[thewarningafter]

[Neither, Peter. Both.]

Freddie Mercury you are not.

[At least he's stopped scream-singing?]

[zunesareawesome]

...dude, that was a spot-on Freddie Mercury impression!

[How could you? His singing was fantastic and completely in-tune and pleasant!

...right? Right?

...maybe not.]

[thewarningafter]

It was some kind of impression.