[visual: Cain's place | location: Mick at the Hedge Maze] Two for One, experimental thingie

[hasaheart]

Under normal circumstances, Cain sleeps because he knows he needs it rather than out of enjoying it. Normally, he rises early and gets started on the new day. He knows he needs routine, and he takes comfort in the small things of everyday life. Getting the first pot of coffee for the day going while he grabs a shower, then a few yoga exercises aimed just as much at loosening his joints as to help him learn to relax. Then he has his coffee, checks the tablet, and from there on in, he takes the day as it comes.

But not this morning.

This morning, he wakes up feeling like he's been caught in a swarm of angry bees, stumbled out onto a busy road and been run over by something very big. Blinking his eyes open at the ceiling, it takes a moment for him to register where he is: it's his bedroom, his bed, but he couldn't feel more out of place. His skin itches from the top of his head to the base of his neck, the back of his skull burns where he's rested his head on the pillow, his lips taste like blood. His hands feel only marginally better, the skin stretched too taut, and raising them to have a look only confirms it. Hands swollen and red, knuckles covered in cracks as thin as hairs.

Another moment's spent convincing himself he isn't dreaming, then he crawls out of bed to the muted sounds of his body protesting the decision to move at all. His feet are covered in sores and blisters.

Reaching for the tablet, he selects the visual mode, as there's no way in damnation he's going to type with his hands. "What in the forgotten halls of Emerald City happened to me?"

~*~

Mick's awakening early afternoon on the same day comes with less calm and more panic. He scrambles, pushing against the confines of his freezer, momentarily confused. Then realization hits, and instead of trying to get out, his hands find his face in frantic pawing slaps that would probably be highly comical if there weren't for the stabbing, gnawing hunch in his gut that it wasn't all a dream.

Not ten minutes later he's running for the hedge maze, if possible in an even worse state of panic. Finding the crack in the ground still there doesn't help.

Bad things happen, that's just the way it is, but sometimes, all you want is to catch a break. Instead, you find yourself picking up the pieces.

He drags in the cool night air through his nose, on all fours by the gaping, jagged hole in the ground trying to hear something, anything at all. He smells blood on the air, and burning flesh, and all he can see is Glitch, falling into a fiery grave and suddenly the earth seems to move under him. He can't breathe. "Oh, God. Oh, God, no."

It's 2:33 PM on Wednesday, when Mick's citywide text message goes out. It says, in no uncertain terms: Glitch is dead. Hedge maze. I'm sorry.



[placeholder post for anything you want to happen during the week following the end of the fairy tale event, especially dealing with the fallout of Glitch's death. Visits, tablet convos, bumping into each other in town, anything goes. If you're unsure where to start, ping me at sakuraofrureo on AIM and we can work something out. Or just tag in, and see what happens.

Anyone and everyone who expressed wanting more cr with either of my characters, go ahead and tag.]

Comments

[Visual/Locked]

[goodluck-kobra.livejournal.com]

Kobra had been dealing with a constant headache ever since that last goddamn glitch. Wandering around the woods hadn't exactly done good things for his cold and he spent his time sneezing, sniffling and generally feeling sorry for himself.

He barely glanced at the tablet at first when a text came in, but then squinted and read it again, frowning. Tapping the tablet he started a transmission to Cain, lips still pursed and eyebrows narrowed.

"What's this stuff about?"

[Visual/Locked]

[hasaheart]

Considering Cain's usually prompt in replying to messages directed at him, maybe the five minutes it takes him this time is indicative. Of what, well, that's up to someone else to decide.

The Cain that looks back at Kobra over the link is pale and drawn, jaws clamped firmly together.

"It would seem Glitch is dead. Fell into a crack somewhere in the hedge maze. Burned alive."

He didn't get anything coherent out of the vampire; yelling at him helped even less.

[Visual/Locked]

[goodluck-kobra.livejournal.com]

Well, shit. They had their way of dealing with such things in the zones, but here? Kobra's face showed how out of depth he was for a second or two before he put on a brave facade.

"I'm sorry." Then he remembered something he had heard and licked his chapped lips. "Do you...do you think they'll bring him back? People don't stay dead here, do they?"

text;

[longaevus]

When?

[text]

[ownlittleprison]

pixies R us

text;

[longaevus]

How did it occur?

[ location: Cain's place ]

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

He has no idea why he's here.

...Well, no. He knows exactly why he's doing this but it leaves a giant question hanging over his head and for a brief moment Party can physically taste it, or so he thinks. Then again, maybe he's just loopy. He's cracked. Not cycling properly.

That explains why he's here. He's simply gone mad from the cold. He tells himself it's because Kobra might be here but it's a flimsy, flimsy excuse because Kobra's not there on the tablet and Party used the tablet to find where Cain's damn apartment was.

No, he's here because he recognizes that text. Maybe he's reading too much into it but that text reminds him of Battery City, of that one question everybody asks when they come down from withdrawal and realized just how stupid they were. How different they were acting.

Party knocks, licking his chapped lips and taking a deep breath.

He still doesn't know exactly why he's here.

[ location: Cain's place ] and the icon doesn't do this justice, but...

[hasaheart]

For a while, there's nothing. Not a thing. Not a sound, no movement, not even the slightest indication that he's in there but the dot on the map with his name on it.

Then, something comes along in the sound of footsteps, and the ever so slight creak of hinges as the door opens. Cain stands there, and for a moment he just looks at the young man as though he doesn't quite believe his eyes. He blinks slowly, and something like a light switches on at the back of his gaze.

"Party." Clearing his throat (ducks head, looks to side and back). "Would you like to come in?"

[ location: Cain's place ] and the icon doesn't do this justice, but...

[poisonousparty.livejournal.com]

"Well, someone got into a clap," He announced, and because maybe Cain didn't know the lingo yet, remembered to clarify: "You look like shit," he said helpfully, and began rubbing his hands together for warmth.

He wasn't trying to be rude, but he pushed his way into the house at the invitation instead of answering, looking around, glancing around. Cain's house isn't like Party pictured it. It's sure as neat as he pictured, but he had it in his head that Cain would be full of ranch-y, Texas-style doohickies. It's the cowboy motif.

Eyes flicker to any and all points of exit, and then immediately sweep over anything that could be used as a potential weapon. It's sheer habit, and even though the place is sparse he picks up a few things he automatically categorizes before returning his attention back to Cain.

...No, no, that won't work. He occupies himself with crossing his arms and looking around, as if just noticing everything for the first time.

"Seen Kobra around here?" He already knew the answer.

[text]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

[voice]

[ownlittleprison]

On his end, Mick is shaking too bad to work the tablet. So instead, in what he imagines is a fit of shock-induced brilliance, switches to audio mode.

"He fell- He, he just, got so mad and he stomped his foot and the ground cracked and--" He shakes his head, sitting now on the same carved bench as before. "I tricked him. I got him, killed and it wasn't a dream."

[voice]

[freaks-myword.livejournal.com]

At first, Gwen's pretty confused. Stomped his foot and cracked the--

Oh. Fairy tale land. Now caught up to speed, Gwen fumbles with a response, all the while thinking that 'Yeesh, Mickey's got it rough.'

"Wow," she starts, fantastically unhelpful. She knows people have died here, but...'wow' still pretty much covers it. "You--you know this wasn't your fault, right, big guy? I mean, he might as well have tricked me into pouring acid on my face, and you almost ate me. We weren't ourselves. You weren't yourself."

Once, she would've been too busy moping over her own humiliation accompanying a glitch. But here, she found herself struggling to comfort Mick, and wanting nothing but to make the big lug feel better and stop punishing himself, for once.

[Visual]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

"Jesus Christ," is Paul's reflexive mutter upon seeing Cain's state over the tablets, some time after the actual braodcast.

He reaches for the button to transmit, offers a scowl over it which is an expression of worry in Paul-world at any rate.

"Get the fuck back to bed. I'll be over in a bit."

[Visual]

[hasaheart]

"Like fuck I am," is Cain's cheerful response - for a value of cheerful, as this is Cain and Cain is grumpy and itchy and achy. "I'm drawing myself a bath. There'll be coffee when you get here, but I can't promise it'll taste right with these," he shows his hand to the screen, all tidied up and bandaged.

"I made the rookie mistake of putting ointment on before I thought of coffee, and dammit I hate this."

Sigh. Breathe. It's just the skin. It'll stop burning like fire ants pissed on them soon enough. Swelling will go down too, and his feet will get better. In time.

He gives his friend a slightly more sheepish smile. "It's good to be back, though."

[Visual - Locked]

[smecker.livejournal.com]

Paul runs fingers through his hair, and remembers after the fact to tap 'locked' on the tablet.

"Fine, alright. Tryyy to hold off on the scrubbing until I'm there to help, you're just going to make yourself worse stretching to reach some of that."

Slight pause. "Yeah, well, I hope you don't go anywhere anytime soon. You're no fun like that."

[text] (after a long pause)

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

[voice]

[ownlittleprison]

Sorry Long, you'll have to type all on your own, because Mick's still in audio mode thanks to talking with Gwen.

"I tricked him," he says, and it doesn't matter how many times he does, the words still make him feel sick. "It was during the- the-" he can't say 'glitch', because it's too close to 'Glitch' and he can't wrap his head around it all yet. It doesn't make any sense.

"Everything was like something out of a storybook, and we were distant relatives or something, and I just wanted to get one up on him, I-I just wanted to be better and it's my fault."

[voice]

[imperial-long.livejournal.com]

[Another Pause, and then Long grudgingly switches to audio as well, answering after another minute or so has passed.]

"You're speaking of the latest malfunction." Voice taut, flat, quite cool. "I do hope for your sake that our captors see fit to restore him. I doubt I am the only one who will hold you responsible if you have somehow managed to do him permanent harm."

[Visual]

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Glitch wasn't the only one to have died during the glitch, but Drusilla was no stranger to death - inflicting it or experiencing it - and was no worse for wear when she was returned a few days later. Just in time for all the fun.

"How did he die?" she asked, all morbid curiosity and eerie serenity. "Will you bring him back?"

Because he was a monster, just like her. There was nothing to stop him except his conscience. Why should the hamsters do it? Why would anyone want the hamsters to do it, when Glitch could become a brightly shining other with the right care and attention?

(She liked Glitch, as much as she was capable of liking anyone. He danced with her. She wanted him back.)

[Visual] laaaaaaaaaaaaaateeeeer - and oops, sore spot: prodded

[ownlittleprison]

"Bring him--" Mick faltered mid-repeat, filling up with a different kind of dread all together, and something worse yet. Anger.

In a flash his face had changed, and he bared his teeth at the other vampire in warning. "You so much as set your pretty little foot near this place I'll personally come after you. No offense. No one's 'bringing him back'."

[a-pretty-fire.livejournal.com]

Far from being frightened by his growls and barks, Drusilla laughed in delight at his anger. The puppy did have teeth. She'd started to wonder if he'd forgotten about them.

"You killed him. You should bring him back."

She couldn't do it. Not with the chip in her head.

[visual]

[the-bluethunder.livejournal.com]

The guardian of the woods. Illyria bears the inconvenience of the tablet.

"Your attempt to withstand the limitations of your human body has failed. You were foolish to try."

[visual]

[hasaheart]

The blue lady.

Cain purses his lips before answering, coming to the conclusion that she wasn't affected, and hadn't been. And there's really only one thing he can say in light of her observation. "Yes, ma'am, I was. In my defense, may I point out I wasn't entirely myself at the time?"

[text]

[hisbeth.livejournal.com]

Mick? Mick, where are you? What happened?

[visual | locked]

[ownlittleprison]

No.

Oh no.

Of course she'd reply, the one person whose opinion of him matters the most; the one he can't let himself take for granted, yet fears that's exactly what he's doing every single day she gets up to make coffee and he doesn't have to pretend he's slept through the night.

"I'm at the hedge maze," he tells her, head ducked in what looks and feels a lot like shame. "I didn't mean to get him killed, Beth, I swear."