sometimes the only payoff for having any faith (open - will match format)

[unfollowing]

Who: Emily and YOU!
What: After her revival and subsequent chats with housemates, Emily crashes at Chris's and tries to go about her normal life. Ofc, she's pissed. And really, really sad.
Where: Around the city (coffee cart shift), the sewing shop, and Spire 4 apartment 201
When: Nov 24-28
Warnings: Emily. Emily's attitude. Mentions of death and demonic possession. Pain and suffering. Brief eating disorder-esque thoughts in the thread with Chris. Will add more if they come up.


mornings around the city

[Despite the shitshow that was this entire last event and its aftermath, Emily is still an early riser, and she's still keeping up her end of the deal with Delight, staffing the coffee cart for the morning shift. It's more going through the motions than anything, but it's something, something that's not Matt being angry at her and the damage in the house staring at her like it's reminding her of what she did while possessed.

(No. What the demon did. It wasn't her. It's not her fault.)

It's not easy to serve coffee with a smile, but she manages, depending on the person she's making a cup for. Just don't expect her to give more than that.]


daytime in the sewing shop

[Walking into the sewing shop sends a fresh wave of angry guilt through Emily, because for a second, she thought, At least I didn't ruin all of this.

(No. At least the demon didn't ruin it. It wasn't her. It's not her fault.)

Her progress is slow, but her stitches are just as careful, sturdy, and straight. It's back to work like normal, even if it takes her a little longer now to do a quick consultation and get started on your pattern or to have a fitting with her works in progress.]


downtime/nighttime in the apartment

[Her first day here, she walked in like it's hers and claimed the spare room, slamming the door and crawling into bed to cry herself to sleep for the first time since Matt got here.

She isn't sleeping much, she isn't eating much, and she's not doing much besides her two jobs in the city. The rest of her time is spent in the room sketching idly, or in bed, or taking a shower (vain until the end, and she hates herself for it, for letting the demon in because she cares so much about how she looks).

(No. The demon forced its way in. It wasn't her. It's not her fault.)

Very close friends might have heard she's here, because she won't deny them the information if they ask her for it by text. Beyond that, neighbors might see her going to or coming from the city. And, of course, Chris gets to see her.]


wildcard

[Come at me!]

Comments

slides into prompt 1

[dedikated]

( if there's one thing Kate knows, it's the value of going through the motions. of a routine. of keeping yourself busy enough that you can't really think about the things that hurt.

she's been doing it for more of her life than she cares to think about. has started it again, now that everything's quiet and the demons are gone and-

well, now she has the time to think about the things that hurt, she needs to do the things that will let her avoid that. which is why she's in the clinic when Emily's doing her coffee cart rounds, has been there longer than she has been in a while - up earlier, busying herself with cleaning and organising and stock checking.

going through the motions. and the motions are needed, after everything. )

Hey. ( part of the motions. at least greeting the people who bring her coffee. black. no sugar. that's what's normal.

at least even this fucked up place can't take that away. )

[unfollowing]

[Okay, here we go. Service with a smile.

Emily hands Kate her cup, already prepared because it's the easiest order in the city.]

Hey. Black, no sugar.

[...look, Delight never said the smiles had to be sincere.]

[dedikated]

Thank fuck. ( she needs this, even having slept off all the exhaustion from running around constantly, her brain still feels like it's covered in cotton, fuzzy and indistinct.

sleep doesn't come easy here at the best of times.

let her have a drink before she says anything else. )

Everyone alright?

( back with all the people from Emily's world who seem to flood this place. )

[unfollowing]

[All's well until someone who doesn't know anything asks about what happened.

Emily takes a slow, deep breath, working to keep the look on her face neutral.]

Everyone's alive. That's the best we can hope for.

[dedikated]

( doesn't she fucking know it. but that's the problem. if you don't know, you don't know what to avoid. )

Good.

( her voice is short. it is good, but mustering up genuine enthusiasm is more difficult. )

Hasn't been easy.

( the clinic suffered in more than just stocks. even with her injuries doing better, the memories of what happened with Hakkai are still fresh and painful.

the memories of what happened before that sting in a very different way. )

sewing shop

[tongueamok]

[Carlisle is a stranger to neither guilt, nor feelings of powerlessness, and given what happened but a week ago, he can imagine what Emily may be going through. While still uncomfortable with the idea of the gods bringing people back from the dead -- even those possessed by demons -- he knows she is probably very frustrated with herself, with her circumstances... and with what happened. As someone who spent the better part of the month drunk so he didn't have to deal with exactly those feelings in one way or another, he can empathize.

Of course, he wasn't possessed. He wasn't tricked into making a deal with some strange being from another plane, nor would he make such a trade on purpose. As for how it happened to Emily, he does not know. He's not sure he wants to know, honestly.

And yet, here he is outside the sewing shop: sober, somber, and surprising even himself that he hasn't yet turned back. His fingers twitch idly on the tabard in his hands -- he's completely out of his religious vestment today, wearing a black ensemble instead. It's not that he prefers the darker color; his other outfit needs some work, starting with this tabard. The demon's claws sliced right through both fabric and skin alike. The wounds he sustained during the fight were easy enough to heal, but while a mending glyph would work on his clothes, the garment would be much sturdier if repaired by hand.

If nothing else, it gives him a solid reason to be there, and to talk to his student. This is his duty, he reminds himself, fear bubbling at his gut. She is a demon no longer, and the gods have yet to revive someone as a true undead. While he is certain she has friends who will hear her out, he should offer just in case. This is fine.

With another deep breath in and out, Carlisle tucks the tabard under his arm and knocks on the door to announce his entrance, letting himself in after another second. His eyes flick to her and away as he clears his throat, and then says... nothing.

Yep. Good start.]

[unfollowing]

You here to chew me out?

[Because really, she's had enough of that. (Shut up, once is enough.) Enough that it's her first thought when she sees him there with a garment under his arm, some of the tears visible from where she sits.

Evidently, the demon that possessed her attacked Carlisle.]

Save it. What else are you here for.

[tongueamok]

[He snorts in response. Here he is, going out of his way to try to—

He only gets halfway through that thought before swallowing down his irritability. This month hasn't been easy on anyone, it seems. Emily is a prideful thing, and he can't say he wouldn't have expected someone to do the same, if it were him in her place.]

My tabard is in need of repairs.

[He says all the way from the door, where he's still standing.]

[unfollowing]

[She gives him a look that says no shit, I couldn't tell as she waits for him to come over to her.

It's a few seconds of awkward silence before she realizes he's not moving.]

Oh my god, I'm not possessed anymore. I couldn't kill you if I tried.

[Well, that's probably not true. She could kill him if she really tried, but she doesn't want to.]

sewing shop

[skelebro]

[Helluva day. Helluva few days, really. Sans ain't really sure if he's ever gonna get the memory of it all outta his head. Chara hadn't been Chara, and Frisk...

'Course, it sure hadn't helped that Asriel wasn't in a position to be takin' it all in either. The only real mercy there, not that there'd been much, is that Alphys and Papyrus weren't around to witness the entire damn bloodbath. Nah, Alphys has her new pet nug and Sans has a fox he has no idea how to take care of, and it's - as far as distractions go, it's something.

He'll take what he can get.

He's got his brother's city guard sash in hand when he pops inside Emily's sewing place. The thing's just a little rough around the edges, a bit torn up from the run-ins with the zombies and dragons, and the least he can do is make sure that it's clean in the meantime. Papyrus cares an awful lot for the sash. And it'll make him happy to see it clean.

He raps on the doorway with his knuckles as he enters, sash in hand.]

'Sup? Anybody here?

[unfollowing]

[The knock startles her a little (it's just so quiet here when there aren't monsters out there trying to kill them all), but the question makes her sigh.]

You see me in here sewing, right? Yes someone's here.

[skelebro]

[Sans chuckles as he draws inside fully, letting the door swing shut behind him. He caught that jump, though he can't say if this is a typical thing for her. Mostly he's chatted with Emily over text.]

Eh. Y'don't have to be here to be here, y'know? You could be takin' a union-regulated break for all I know.

[unfollowing]

[If she could roll her eyes further back, she'd do it.

It feels a lot better than moping.]

What do you want, another sash? [As much as she wants to sound mean, like her old self, it comes out little more than irritated.]

Sewing Store

[mismanagement]

[There isn't much that happens in Hadriel that Maketh doesn't know about one way or another. Even with the mess that happened to Henry, she's not unaware of what else transpired.

It could have been worse. The thought isn't much of a comfort.

Maketh steps through the door, running a hand through her hair. She's not in uniform, hair in a long braid instead of the usual bun. Things have been difficult lately. She's not the only one who's tired.]

Emily? Are you here?

[She's holding a package wrapped in paper.]

[unfollowing]

[The rhythmic motion of stitching by hand has lulled Emily into something like a trance when Maketh comes in. She snaps her head up, expecting danger.

No. It's a familiar face.

Emily relaxes.]

Yeah.

[Tucked away in a corner. The wall at her back makes her feel safe, and the slight dimness to the light here is easy on her eyes.

Maketh might be the first person she doesn't immediately snap at, but all that means is she gets silence as Emily goes back to her work, tugging on the thread to secure the stitch she's just finished.]

[mismanagement]

[Jumpy, but alert and alive. There are worse things.

At least she's not crying. Maketh has a feeling Emily wouldn't forgive her for witnessing that.

Maketh shuts the door behind her and moves over silently. She unwraps the package just enough to display its contents and then sets it down beside Emily. It's a bolt of fabric, soft and cool like silk, but somehow stronger as well. A deep, shimmering violet color.]

I found this when I was patrolling. I thought it would be suitable. You would know better.

[unfollowing]

[Stubborn as ever, Emily all but ignores Maketh until she speaks up.

She wants to hate whatever Maketh brought her, but she can't, and even the anger and despair gnawing away at her can't keep the light out of her eyes when she sees the fabric.]

You found this?

[There's no edge to her voice, just slight disbelief and a whole lot of awe. Emily reaches out to touch the fabric with one hand and immediately thinks of all the garments she'd like to make with it. Shirts, dresses, a skirt or two. Matt would--]

What do you want me to make?

[Because no one would just give her something this nice, especially not after the demons.]

Apartment!

[thechoiceisyours]

[It's been a difficult month for Chris.

That's why he hadn't been at the main house much during the event and ultimately why he missed the entire ordeal that happened there, only finding out after the fact and far too late to be any help at all. Even though he knows, logically, that he wouldn't have been any help if he were there, there's still a heavy sense of guilt at not being around when his friends needed him.

So he'd bounced back and forth between the house and his apartment the next few days until Emily's return, when she'd let herself into the apartment--he'd told her where it was for emergencies--and claimed a room. And although at another time he might've been annoyed by that, considering the whole point of this place is to have somewhere when he doesn't want to be around anyone, he can't be upset at Emily for it. He wouldn't have been even if her presence in the apartment didn't give him a really good excuse to continue staying there himself, without feeling like he should be spending more time in the main house.

Chris likes to think that he's--at least most of the time--good at figuring out what people need to feel better in a given situation. But that's mostly for the types of situations normal young adults would be dealing with, not things like being possessed by a demon and then dying; that's still a little outside Chris' area of expertise, although he's been doing his best. So far he's been giving Emily space, bothering her only to inform her that coffee is made or there's food--or what passes for food, since Chris' cooking skills are nothing incredible and it's not like there's the best ingredients in Hadriel--and then make sure she actually eats something.

That's what he's doing now, having accomplished a cold noodle dish that actually turned out decently enough, knocking on Emily's door.]

Hey, Em?

weh these children; also cw eating disorder-esque thoughts

[unfollowing]

[She left the sewing shop early today, brought her work back to the apartment so she could keep busy but not have to deal with talking to whoever decided to walk in. When she got to her room, she shut the door, climbed into bed, and did no sewing at all, just lay there trying to keep her mind as blank as the wall.

That had been an hour ago.

Now she's at the small desk in the room, working on the project she brought with her, aware that she should eat but not really feeling up to it. She should be happy she's stick thin, right? She should learn to love it, because if she'd just been content with it, she wouldn't have said the words that cued the demon in to her vain desire to have curves.

The knocking cuts through her thoughts She sets her work down and crosses the room to open the door.

When she answers, her voice is flat but not agressive.] What.

sob these children

[thechoiceisyours]

[Chris isn't surprised--or bothered--by the flat response, and it doesn't deter him from managing a smile and a light tone when he replies.]

I'm pretty sure I told you that while you're here you're stuck suffering my bad cooking with me.

[He told her no such thing, but the comment is meant to try to make everything feel more normal even if it's obvious that's what he's doing. He holds out the bowl toward her.]

You're in luck though; I think like, my bad cooking is actually approaching mediocre this time.

[unfollowing]

[He totally didn't say that to her, but she's not in the mood to tell him so. She just looks at the bowl, considering its contents. There's no steam coming off it, but it looks like it might taste half decent if her taste buds were willing to cooperate. (They probably are; her brain's just dulling the signals they send.)

After a few seconds, she looks back up at him.]

Are you trying to cook something sort of Asian just because I'm here now?

[Normally, that question would be overflowing with attitude and sass. Today, she just barely manages to give it some intonation.]

Sewing Shop

[justice_from_above]

[With the demons gone, Pharah is finally able to spend some time out of armor. She visits the shops and collects a small wardrobe. The thing about being slightly taller than average however means that things just don't quite fit. In a quick pinch, yes, they would do, but just because she was in a strange cave world didn't mean she couldn't at least look her best.]

Excuse me? I was wondering if I could get some alterations?

[unfollowing]

[Emily doesn't recognize the voice or the person, which is kind of a relief. A stranger won't know who she is or what she's done, won't have anything to judge her by except whatever happens now. And what will happen now should be civil enough, because Emily doesn't have the energy right now to sass for no reason.]

Yeah, I'm the one who does them. [Now that Ai is gone, it's mostly just Emily.] I can make whole outfits too. Delight gives us cotton if you tell her a happy memory.

[What a sales pitch. Her marketing professor would die of shame. Good thing Emily's got the market cornered as far as sewing and alterations go.]

[justice_from_above]

[Pharah looks pleased. First, that she could get her current items tailored, but secondly, it was nice to have materials easily accesible like that.]

Any sort of happy memory, then? [She might have to dig farther back; she had a very encouraging and idyllic childhood that gave way into a bitter adulthood rife with disappointment, but the Good Old Days were always worth looking back on.]

[unfollowing]

[Delight's good like that. This encounter alone should be reinforcing it for Delight that, yes, striking a deal with Emily for fabric was a good idea for her.]

As long as it makes you genuinely happy, yeah.

[Which... yeah, she feels you there, Pharah.]

What do you want me to work on?