[open + closed]

[survivorsguilt]

Who: Ellie, Malkus, anyone who wants to bug or look out for Ellie because of the hit list!
What: The bird man does a murder
Where: Spire 3, various other places
When: Backdated open prompts, closed prompts on the 8th
Warnings: Character murder via poison, child death, vomiting

prompts in the comments!

Comments

open + backdated // 1st - 7th

[survivorsguilt]

[After spending a couple of days on lock down with Duck, Ellie just can't do it anymore. It reminds her too much of the camps. Always tense, up at dawn, watching and waiting and hiding. She makes Duck promise to be careful; she sets up check-in rules and worries and almost talks herself out of it-

But eventually she leaves, gun gripped firmly in her sweaty hands and eyes darting as she sneaks out of Spire 3. She's not afraid.

But she's not stupid, either.]

((ooc: ellie intends to check in with some folks, so feel free to assume if you have cr she may have turned up on your doorstep! you could also run into her picking up some food, or just skulking around on her way to see someone!))

[weedbgon]

[ Let no one say Merle doesn't care about people in general. Basically everyone he's ever met here is on a hit list, which kinda sucks? But that happens sometimes. They're all working on it.

And if he happens to be out and he happens to see Ellie hanging out out there in the cave world, gun in hand, well.

It sure is happening, so a lot of the hypothetical rhetoric goes out the window. He'd walk up to anyone he knows out here, anyway. ]

Hey, kid! How's it hangin'? You out lookin' to get revenge on someone, or is that a... a fresh air weapon?

[ Looks kickass either way, but tbh he'd totally join her on a vengeance quest if she needed it. ]

[survivorsguilt]

[It's not as though Merle seems like the kind of person to murder someone in cold blood (HAHAHA) and she's fairly sure he hates the Null, but all the same, Ellie remains a little wary. He's been kind to her, but she doesn't know him as well as, say, Magnus.]

Um, I'm okay. Just getting food.

[She gives him a funny look.]

No idea what the fuck a fresh air weapon is, but some revenge doesn't sound too bad right now. Problem is, I have no idea exactly who to be pissed off at.

[weedbgon]

[ What really matters is he wouldn't murder Ellie in cold blood. Let repeated history... remain in the past... ]

A fresh air weapon's pretty much anything dangerous you carry around with ya. In the fresh air. Magnus has a ton of 'em. He is one sometimes. And I got my warhammer, L'il Smoosher! Which is great if you ever need to get out and break a few windows or, uh. You know, fancy glass eggs or somethin'.

[survivorsguilt]

[Fair......enough..........]

Oh! Then yeah, it's totally a fresh air weapon. I never put this thing down.

L'il Smoosher...? [She snorts.] What do you think I should name my pistol?

closed - malkus // 8th

[survivorsguilt]

[She misses Joel.

She misses knowing someone has her back as she ducks and scrounges for canned food, misses that connection of trust. Some of Ellie's nerves have died at this point, but she knows better than to get cocky just because it's been quiet. She loads up her backpack quietly and quickly, keeping an ear out for any movement even as she thinks about Duck and her unanswered texts. She'll go there next. Bring him a snack. It'll be a nice surprise. He's fine.

Definitely fine.]

[doctoral_bird]

[ His vision blurred, and all Malkus could think was “Oops”... It had been a bit much. Blood pooled beneath him, and he could almost see his reflection in the thin sanguine mirror. He’d gone overboard. A dark haze circled his line of sight, like looking through a foggy window. Malkus had concentrated so hard on setting the stage, that he hadn’t realized how isolated he was in this particular pocket of the city. What if no one came? What if the person who did come close to investigate wasn’t on that list?

Malkus sat on his feet, hand on his knees as the other struggled to keep him upright. The dark carapace that covered his arms shined like a beetle’s armor, oiled with a venom that currently burned through his body. Malkus had screwed up. ]

I-I can’t... move. Why. I-I wasn’t-... [ Even a target? That complicated it. But neither were a good many Hadrielites! ]

[ He waited, listening for anyone approaching. Even in his weakness, he had the strength to repeat himself periodically. A wounded SOS... ]

[survivorsguilt]

[She hears it. She hears, and she circles around, staying low behind shelving. It sounds like a call for help, and a year ago, that's all Ellie would have heard.

Now, she thinks of a man staggering into the middle of the road, arm wrapped around his stomach. She thinks of how quickly his gun appeared from behind his back, when their car sped up instead of slowing down. A cry for help can be a cry for victims. She knows this now.

But when Ellie peers around the corner and spots Malkus, gun at the ready, she gasps loudly and gives up any notion of staying out of sight. She calls out to him from a distance, scanning the area around her.]

Stay put! Just- just don't move around, yeah? Do you know if they're still here? Whoever did this to you?

[She doesn't want to run into the middle of a trap with poor Malkus set up as the bait.]

[doctoral_bird]

[ He could just shut his eyes and sleep. Malkus could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and for awhile that was the only sound he could register. Perhaps this was his penance for wanting to go home this severely. The sound of Ellie’s voice shot through him and he felt the air leave his lungs. Not this. Not the girl. This was some cruel joke. Couldn’t it have been anyone else?

He thought of home. Mangled and desiccated as it was. Where he deserved to be. ]

I don’t-

[ There was a genuine cough, accompanied by the bitter taste of decaying health. ]

Know. C-Can’t see.

[ No thoughts now. Empty your mind, Malkus. A shred of himself begged Ellie to leave, but he carried on in spite of it. ]

Don’t know how long-... I’ve been here.

closed - jo, nate + elena, lup + taako // 8th

[survivorsguilt]

[Ellie has never felt so weak.

Each step feels like she's dragging her legs through a flurry of rushing water. Her vision blurs, and it doesn't clear when she wipes the tears and sweat from her face. Blood curls down her left arm, along with a difficult to distinguish substance. Gotta be almost there. Gotta be close.

Was the housing always this far away? She stops to drag her backpack off her shoulders and dig for her water bottle, and before she understands what's happened, she feels her knees collide with the ground. The pain of sudden impact crawls through her bones and leaves her heaving.

Can't breathe. Go. Keep going. Go.

She has to be close. Has to be. There isn't another option.]

Re: closed - jo, nate + elena, lup + taako // 8th

[knifecollecting]

[Jo hadn't left the house with any intention other than to find some extra food. She had stayed close to home, though it drove her nearly crazy.

She's far enough away that she can't tell who it is, but when the person stumbles and falls, Jo breaks into a run.]

Hey! [Something was wrong. It only takes her a little bit to reach Ellie and only a second for her heart to sink. Something was very wrong.]

Ellie! Ellie? [Jo falls to her knees, reaching for Ellie's face.]

[survivorsguilt]

[She might want to rethink that last decision. Then again, it's not likely Jo will care about the sheen of sweat that covers Ellie's face, or the drool that curls down her chin. She looks up at Jo in disorientation.]

...Jo? This... isn't your house.

[knifecollecting]

[Once you've felt your own guts in your hand, sweat is pretty much nothing, even if it's not your own.]

No, it's not. Were you trying to get to me? [Her heart skips a beat as she asks, wondering what the hell is going on.]

[armcollector]

[Magnus isn't there when it happens.

He isn't there when she's brought to the house.

But when he comes home, and the twins mention Ellie and poison and couch, Magnus doesn't think twice. He doesn't care that the last time they spoke ended on a sour note. He sees her, laid out on the sofa, looking pale and feverish, and he goes to her.

He doesn't know what to say to her, at first. He already knows from the way the twins were talking there's little anyone can do for her.

Fuck. This is that list, isn't it? She was on it. That's why he got so angry, why he gave up on working with the Null. She defended the gods, even against Magnus, and she's paying for it.

He unclenches his fist and, trying to be as gentle as he possibly can, brushes damp hair away from her face.]

Hey, Angel.

[His voice is gentle, but the look on his face is murderous. His mind is racing through who could have potentially done this already. He's going to find out, one way or another.

He grits his teeth, takes a breath through them. Squeezes her shoulder, softly running his thumb over it.]

You were right. Of course you were right.

[Because... if it weren't for the gods right now, this really would be the end. She wouldn't come back without Hope.

Magnus wouldn't be able to live with that.

She was right. How could he be such an idiot?]

[survivorsguilt]

[I'm ruining the couch, she thinks.

Her arm bled a lot before being wrapped up, and that's not even the worst of it. Her stomach churns as a reminder, and Ellie groans. She tries to look towards Magnus, but he seems so far away. Tries to reach for his hand, but can't gain control of her twitching fingers.]

Mm. Always righ'.

[The couch. It's dirty.]

Sorry.

[armcollector]

[Magnus catches sight of her hand twitching towards him, even if it's weak, and he instantly rushes to grab her hand, taking her small one in his. He glances down at them, as he gently runs his much larger thumb against her hand, and when he looks back up at her and she apologizes there are tears in his eyes.

He cries too easily. It just took one word from her and the rage in him was overtaken by it. He wishes she didn't have to see him getting choked up now, not when it might be the last thing she sees for a while.]

What're you sorry for, dummy? Being right?

[He wipes a tear off his face and sniffs.]

I guess that's a pretty good reason to be sorry, actually.

[The weight of it pulls at his chest.]

I'm... the one that's sorry. I should have never let you... When your name was...

[He desperately fights the urge to completely break down. She can't see him break down now. But he doesn't know what to do. This is beyond him. It's too late for her and he doesn't even know who...]

Do you know who it was, Angel?

[His voice is distant.]

[pocketspa]

[He truly and honestly doesn't know what to fucking do.

Taako's not a person who's often moved to action; he doesn't see something and feel righteously angry, feel like his honor's been slighted and pull up some fucking duel. He doesn't go and track down some horrifying evil, or go put himself in a vulnerable position based on something that didn't even happen to him.

But fuck, he wants to find whoever fucking did this. He wants to find them and end them in some horrifying, slow, painful way that they won't ever forget.

(Why did it have to be poison. Of all things. Why did it have to be poison.)

He's sitting on the coffee table next to the couch, not having bothered to get a chair, feeling like his chest is going to rip the hell apart and not knowing a damn thing to say about it. He's just sort of looking at her, eyes flicking to Lup, like he's waiting for something to happen and just can't be the catalyst for it.]

[restinglichface]

[Neither of the twins are equipped to handle this.

Taako perches on the coffee table and Lup is kneeling on the floor beside him, shoulder pressed into his leg. It's not much in the way of comfort for either of them, but she needs to be near him even if they're struggling to actually find ways to help. Ellie is laid out before them, dying far too slowly, and the two elves are left watching over her slow passing with carefully controlled expressions and silence.

Maybe it would be kinder to whisper lies into Ellie's ear while petting her hair, telling her that she was going to be okay, that help was on the way and they'd all be laughing about this in a week or two when the stress had passed. But Lup doesn't do platitudes, doesn't waste her breath with meaningless comfort that won't soothe any of the pain currently tormenting the younger girl's body.

Lup peers up at her brother even if she doesn't need to see his face to know what he's thinking. This is impossibly difficult for them, so Lup focuses in on the one thing she can promise.] We're going to find them.

[And whoever it was, however they pleaded, they were going to burn.]

[survivorsguilt]

[The sound of her breathing is so loud. It fills the silence, ragged and far, far too quick.

Ellie might feel self-conscious about it if she had any energy left for that. Instead, all she can focus on is the way even air burns going down her throat. Everything burns. It feels like her veins are on fire.

She turns her heavy head peer at them both, squinting through tears. The image of them, turned towards each other and just waiting, hurts like nothing else she's felt before. Part of her wishes they'd leave. It'd be easy, right? They've been good to her, but it's not like they've known her very long.

Go, she thinks, staring hard at Taako's shoes. Go away.

She doesn't speak.]

[storyseeker]

[Elena's always been good with kids—and though Ellie's old enough that she might vehemently protest the label under normal circumstances, she is one. The handful of high school babysitting jobs she had went well, and although she doesn't know whether the so-called maternal instinct will apply to her life, looking after Ellie feels natural.

But nothing about this is natural.]

Hey, you. [She brings in a cool washcloth to lay across Ellie's forehead.] Keep hanging in there, all right? How are you feeling?

[Please say 'better.' Please let the poison only have been enough to sicken, not kill.]

[survivorsguilt]

[She wants to say that she is feeling better. Wants to so, so badly. Because if she's not better, than this needs to just be fucking over already; it needs to be done.

She can't ask that of Elena. Right?]

Thirsty.

[That one word is hard enough to push out. As time has worn on, it's only gotten harder to speak. She's dipped in and out of consciousness, and her fever has grown much worse. The worst of it, though, is the convulsions. She turns stiff, jerky, unresponsive. Her heart races and everything is white and she thinks maybe, finally, it's over.

Not yet.]

[storyseeker]

You got it.

[Anything she wants, it's hers. Elena hurries to get a cup—one with a lid and a straw—and brings it back, sliding her hand under Ellie's head to help her.]

Give it a try?

[God, this is the worst. This shouldn't be happening at all. It's that much worse because even though she hasn't known Ellie long, she's certain that the girl would strenuously protest this kind of babying, if she had the strength to do so.]

WEE WOO HERE COMES THE PAIN-MOBILE

[nonscriptum]

[Nate remembers being sick. He remembers how miserable it was getting shoved into the orphanage clinic with the flu, quarantined without visitors for fear of passing the virus, curled up around the papers and pencils and books his older brother would sneak in to him to keep him from going out of his mind. Hunching over a cobbled together sketchpad and sniffling miserably while trying to draw a schooner from memory. (The worst part about it is not being able to remember what it was like to not be sick, when your head is splitting and you feel both hot and cold.)

Nate remembers being sick after they left St. Francis on the first leg of their adventure, when they were just kids and health insurance was for adults and could barely afford to feed and house themselves, let alone waste money on medicine. This place, with its scant resources, isn't much better than a hovel in Central America.]

Hey kiddo.

[She looks bad.

Pale and wan and corpse-like, her skin nearly translucent as she shivers on the mattress even with blankets tucked up to her damn chin. Elena, no doubt sensing that Nate might have needed a few minutes of visiting time, had made an excuse about soup and left him holding Ellie's tiny, sweaty hand. He pulls his chair closer to the bedside until his knees are crammed up against the frame.]

Thought you might wanna- hear a few stories, y'know. Shoot-outs and monsters and stuff.

[The only distraction he can provide.]

OH GODDDDDDDDD PULLIN TO AWFUL STATION

[survivorsguilt]

[She barely acknowledges his presence.

Ellie can't think past searing heat and freezing cold and constant thirst. It feels like she's changing. Like her entire body is shifting, burning up and melting into something new. Something that isn't her.

We can be all poetic and lose our minds together, Riley had said.

Finally, she thinks. Finally I know how you felt.]

Monsters...?

[Her voice is a rasp.]

toot toot

[nonscriptum]

Oh, yeah. All kinds of monsters.

[He shifts, leaning one elbow on the bed and squeezing her hand. It's gone clammy - past a fever, and into dangerous territory. Nate doesn't like where she's headed, and he'll keep her here if he can help it.]

Saw these things in Nepal once: big, burly animals, like yetis. Huge teeth. Ran around in the snow.

[Nearly impossible to kill, not-actually-yetis-at-all-but-mutated-people-in-yeti-suits. You know, the usual.]