circumitus: and you left a soldier behind. (it was like an alcohol war zone)
Reybama ([personal profile] circumitus) wrote in [community profile] hadriel_logs2017-06-21 11:47 am

though my days are done, the waters will always run

Who: Rey and You + Closed Prompt to Nick Valentine ([personal profile] synthedick).
What: As ghosts of the past come to pay a visit, one familiar figure returns to Rey's life. You always hurt the ones you love.
Where: House 1401, Lake, Speakeasy.
When: June 21st-29th, throughout Ghosts That We Know.
Warnings: Heavy subjects of guilt, death, and suicidal ideations are very likely to emerge.

21st; House 1401 [NARRATIVE]
(i know a place where a body can hide.)

It starts with a whisper: Fiona.

An old name. A dead name. The name she had adopted recently in order to protect herself, becoming a shield as it was before. And it speaks to her again, in the same, soft voice:

Fiona. That's who she was supposed to be -- a construct named Fiona. No, not a construct. A girl. A creation born of flesh and blood and bone, melted together out of cells both human and immortal. Out of the blood, a fire grew inside of her, and became who she is today. Fiona is just a concept now, nothing more. A nice dream of who she could have been.

Maybe if things had gone differently, she would still be Fiona. She would wake up to that same voice, whispering softly to her like it is now. Feel the warmth of her fingers as they stroke her hair. Humming a song she knows as she dreams, and dreams, and...

For once, Rey does not wake up with a start, but her heart skips many beats when her eyes flash open to a blurred, blonde figure kneeling before her.

She's in her usual sleeping position, back pressed to the wall and legs curled to her chest. Not in the soft comfort of a bed but on the floor, in the corner of the room. She didn't recall going to sleep with a blanket draped over her, and yet that's exactly what she finds, snug and folded around her.

As her vision clears, the blurred shape becomes a woman. Fair, silky hair cascades over her shoulders. Emerald eyes taper with worry. She brings a hand out to run three fingers down the side of Rey's cheek, over her scars, and then her sleepy mind wakes up.


"The fuck is this?" Rey's teeth grind. Her hand smacks the blonde's away before those fingers can start to brush the bangs from Rey's forehead. She throws the blanket from over her shoulders, hurrying to her feet. To blink the wake many more times into her eyes before she can discern the shape that's in front of her.

The woman rises, standing close to Rey's own height. The white clothes bear a semblance to the work attire she wore every day when she visited the subject in Glass House. Everything about this thing is the spitting image of that very woman, down to her voice and the quiet hum rumbling from her throat just seconds before Rey had snapped awake.

Her vision blurs, chest aches, throat tightens. She looks around, searching for some indicator that this isn't real. Could be another dream brought by the gods, or an illusion. It couldn't be the Door glitching out, bringing in people like it had brought IV... That can't be possible. How could she have found her way into this room? Someone would have contacted Rey first, whether they knew where she lived or not.

"Fiona." This thing even shares that woman's same voice. Soft, soothing, kind. Concerned. Loving. Rey sees it in her eyes, and finds this to be a figment mimicking the façade that had once been the closest thing to a 'mother' she ever had. The mother whose dying words were 'it's all right' before Rey... before she...

"Stop calling me that!" Rey hisses, pressing herself up against the wall. She struggles to keep her voice down, to slow her breathing although she is on the verge of a panic. "You're not real. You're made up. They're fucking with me, they're fu--"

The woman frowns, concerned expression growing more sincere. "You're correct."

Rey's mouth snaps shut. She wasn't expecting an actual confession. "What?"

"I said, you're correct." The imposter cants her head, imitating a similar body language Rey herself has adopted. "Did you honestly think that I would lie to you? Have I ever lied to you?"

Shoulders slumping, Rey grimaces. She doesn't know what to say. The imposter isn't wrong. "You're getting this information out of my head."


"Does Nick know you're here?"

"He does not. I'm afraid he is unable to see me, as are many others."

So she knows who Nick is, and she seems to have processed what is happening better than Rey herself is. Rey shakes her head, dropping her face into her hands. "Why are you here? Do you have any idea why... how this... is..."

Silence follows. Rey sinks back to the floor, covering her face. She can't look at that woman. Can't remember the way it had contorted with pain in her final moments, when all she could do was try to reassure her subject the only way she knew how. She watched herself twist that woman's neck as the flames burned the laboratory all around them, and Dido's aria plays. The stench of burnt chemicals and hair and flesh is overwhelming, as is the smoke in her lungs.

When a hand falls over her shoulder, she shakes. Tries to deflect the imposter's touch, only to let it lay firm on the fabric of her shirt. Allowing Rey to feel this woman's touch, her warmth, her realness in that she is here and living and there is blood in her body and a pulse in her veins. Rey hears it, feels it when the imposter places a gentle kiss over the top of Rey's head. And she doesn't even find herself lashing out this time. Doesn't want to.

Instead, she chokes. Words failing her, and she can't even take action against this offense that exists in her room.

Because this is exactly what Undine Stransky would do...

"I'm aware that this hurts you," Undine whispers softly into the crown of Rey's head, who is unable to speak through the shaky breaths and short inhales that burn under her skin. "Please understand, I'm not here to hurt you."

That's the crux of it, isn't it? That she is the one who could hurt the one who killed her this time, to do what should have been done back then, and yet... selfless, like always. Rey wishes she could be like that woman. Wishes even more that she could be with that woman, missing her presence and voice every day, her memory being the last remaining evidence that a woman named Dr. Undine Stransky ever existed. The first person to ever love someone as unworthy of that love as Rey, and yet here she is, promising not to hurt her, wiping the tears from her eyes before taking her trembling hands into her own. Undine leans in, forcing Rey to meet those same, green eyes that she had first met nearly a century ago behind a wall of glass. The look of something so strange at the time, it didn't seem real.

It was love.

"Do you want to go on a walk?"

Rey swallows, and nods.

I. 26th; Riverside [OPEN]
(everybody hopes that love is like a prairie fire.)

Shadows wiggle and swim from under the darkness of the lake, sometimes jumping up to the surface to make themselves known. The fish that dove and bolted through the water vanish into the flowing current, taking them deeper into the lake. The lapping waves are all Rey hears in her head when, eyes closed, she listens to her own breath.

Nearby the tranquil scene is Rey, shoes off and the hems of her cargo pants rolled up to her knees. Not far from her, a blonde woman is made visible, though not a figure that has emerged through the Door as so many others have. Hell, the sharks that occasionally circle about within the lake are more real than this woman.

But she is visible, even to the naked eye now. No longer translucent and pale, but golden, vibrant, her eyes like shining emeralds when she murmurs into Rey's ear as she concentrates.

"You have control over this, Fiona," the woman whispers.

And she does. As Rey lifts her hand, the air ripples around her. From the palm of her hand, red veins shimmer under her skin, producing a flame. When she exhales, the fire dances around her fingers in more controlled motions, before encircling her forearm. The heat sends a warm gust of air that carries strands of her mahogany hair waving, while the blonde's remains still.

That is when the woman points to the river. The sharp tip of a shark's face emerges from the water. It lingers, waiting -- and a hot burst sends the fire from Rey's hand into the lake, too quick to dodge. The shark immediately sinks back out of sight.

Her skin still warm but returning to its normal shade, Rey looks down at the puffs of smoke rising from her palm. "This something I always could've done?" Her brows furrow. It isn't like she was given a detailed manual on how her body worked, and there's still a lot of things she doesn't know.

If it's anyone who would have answers, it'd be her mother, who smiles before placing a hand on Rey's back. "Of course. It's always been in your blood. All you needed was a little push in the right direction."

"Guess it's better than trial and error." Rey feels her mouth pull back into something that's sort of like a grin. "Good to know, though."

At least this time, it doesn't appear that she is having a one-sided conversation with herself. The woman standing beside Rey is as real as any physical being.

II. 27th; Speakeasy [OPEN]
(sterling silver, natural pearl, you're your mother's little girl.)

"You should see a doctor."

"You are a doctor," Rey snaps, stumbling through the door of the old bar. Her face is pale, skin sallow and malnourished.

"I'm not that kind of doctor and you know it!" Undine follows Rey inside, the woman bringing her hands on Rey's shoulders in order to guide them to one of the booths. "Come on, you should lay down."

Rey just throws Undine off her. "Stop doing that!"

The blonde woman stops, a crease forming over her brow. "What do you mean? Stop what?" She squints, standing awkwardly as Rey keeps staggering into the bar on her own.

She doesn't get an immediate response, as Rey gasps and her face burns up. She feels sick, if she ever knew what being sick felt like, and she doesn't. But she wants to puke. She's disgusted, and not with this imposter that keeps bearing the identity of someone who has been long dead for nearly one hundred years.

No, she's disgusted with herself. With how easy she has let herself fall into this nice dream. Spending time with this woman in ways that they never got to when she was alive. Being happy in ways that she has no right to be. As Fiona, Undine's precious little girl and creation, she killed the one she loved. Undine's reassuring murmurs and hand stroking her face as Fiona carried out the task she had been programmed to finish sends rocks rolling in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that the Rey of now has allowed herself to so grossly forget.

Dammit. How do people live with themselves like this? How is she supposed to live with herself, and keep pretending to play this game?

"Stop caring. You know what I did! You know--!" Her words are abruptly cut off when her vision goes dark.

Legs tripping, Rey reels forward. All three hundred twenty pounds of her topples forward, hitting the floor of the Speakeasy with a thunderous crack. Out like a light, and unresponsive to Undine's pleas after the blonde stoops to Rey's side, attempting to shake her awake, calling out for Fiona, Fiona, FIONA!

All she hears are echoes.

III. 29th; House 1401 [CLOSED TO NICK VALENTINE [personal profile] synthedick]
(she's alive, she's alive, a stone floating upstream.)

This time, she doesn't wake up.

It's been several hours since Rey returned home, laid down on her bed, and stayed there. Now Undine is alone, sitting quiet beside her bed, hand over Rey's head as she sleeps -- but she isn't asleep. Not really. Her eyes move irregularly under her lids, her body not responding when shaken or spoken to.

Undine is educated enough to know an imminent coma when she sees one. It doesn't take much for her to pin the cause, either. She's noticed how the more she became clear to others, she more listless Rey grew. How she stumbled and fell, sometimes falling asleep during their many conversations. When Undine started noticing that Rey wasn't eating, she tried to present her with easier to digest meals and liquid diets. Rey was having none of it.

And now she's here, sunken into the mattress with the blanket over her, color drained from her complexion. If not for her shallow breathing and faint pulse, one could very well mistake her for a corpse. Even her skin is cold, which is highly unusual for a human, and even more so for her. If nothing happens, if she doesn't do what needs to be done, then chances are it'll be too late.

For the last time, as she sits next to her daughter's side, fingers over her hair and lips to her forehead, Undine releases a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry, but I can't keep my promise."

She had given Rey her word -- don't die. Determined to fight the affliction that was overtaking her, every attempt Undine had made to convince Rey that there's only one way to resolve her condition was met with extreme reproach. It was obvious that Rey had no desire to hear Undine's theory, growing more agitated with every endeavor she made.

There's no room for dispute now, not when the other party is falling deeper into unconsciousness. The longer they wait, the more difficult it will be for Rey to recover from a coma, if she ever could. Perhaps these 'gods' could help her, but would she be the same person? It's a fear of Rey's that Undine shares.

After a long, agonizing moment, Undine slides off the bed. With a final glance to the pale, scar-faced woman lying lonely and lifeless in that bed, she turns and enters the living area at the first sign of Rey's roommate entering the home.

Nick Valentine. Somehow, she knows who this man is. He is special, means something to Rey. And yet Undine was scolded not to speak to him once she became seen to others, once it also became obvious that, the more alive Undine became, the more Rey was dying. Knowing the relationship that the two housemates share, Undine didn't need to ask what reason Rey had for making such a demand -- Nick would, without a doubt, have sided with Undine on her theory.

"Mr. Valentine," Undine says softly, slipping out of Rey's room. "I'm afraid I need to ask for your help."

How funny to think of the many noir stories that started out like this, where a dame walks into that weathered old detective's office, bringing trouble along with her.

IV. 21st-30th; Wildcard [OPEN]
(it will never die; it can only go on.)

[ooc: Got something you'd like to do with Rey and/or Undine? Feel free to contact me or hit up my plotting comment for details! I can write a super special starter just for you or you can tag in with whatever! Just be sure to specify the day of the event.]
skelebro: (i Cant)

26th :)

[personal profile] skelebro 2017-06-21 09:36 pm (UTC)(link)
It's just Papyrus, now, following him, growing increasingly solid. Tall and proud in his battle body, but far more subdued than his brother has any right to be. The wake of what Chara - of - of -

His vision blurs as the world twists and warps, and he snakes through a patch in space and ends up across the city, landing in the water with a heavy plash. He can't quite lift his skull. It doesn't occur to him that anyone else would be nearby until he catches sight of bare feet in the water, the curdling black snakes of smoke wisping into nothing.

He can't see.

Sans jerks on the spot, crumbling, as he all but prepares to sink into the water and let it wash him into nothing. Papyrus catches him around the center of his ribcage, tugging at him.

"NOT IN FRONT OF COMPANY!!" he scolds, though even the bluster isn't enough to erase the worry pulling his features downward. That doesn't...that's not good, not in the slightest. Papyrus should be smiling. He should be happy. He always - what's the point of anything if he can't make him happy?
skelebro: (searching for peace)

[personal profile] skelebro 2017-06-22 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
"HE'S, HAVING, SOME, TROUBLE," Papyrus manages, wringing gloved hands, the words eked out between nervous glances in Sans's direction. He's trying, god, he's trying not to make things any worse for Papyrus than they've already gotten, but - hell, if the exchange is his life for Papyrus's, no one would complain, would they?

He can't see a damn thing. The flow of the water is cool and laminar across his sockets, and Papyrus is the only thing keeping him upright.


Ever unwilling to discuss at any length the foundations of Sans's miserable existence, the single unit of HP that can't be refilled, can't be lost without reducing him to dust. Any buffer he might've garnered prior to now has long since vanished, and it's left him trembling, fading, vulnerable.

"HE NEEDS REST," Papyrus settles on at last, glancing between Rey and her specter. "AND HE WON'T..."

He won't do what's necessary.

'Cause there really are lines that he simply won't cross.

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-06-23 06:21 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-06-24 02:44 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-06-24 03:53 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-06-25 01:15 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-06-25 02:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-06-28 03:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-07-01 03:39 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-07-02 04:32 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-07-03 04:15 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-07-03 05:19 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] skelebro - 2017-07-08 22:26 (UTC) - Expand
mismanagement: (011)


[personal profile] mismanagement 2017-06-22 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
She's been so tired lately, it's been difficult to focus on anything for long. But the twins have been asking to see the world, get their hands into it, and who is Maketh to refuse them? Not when they've been brought together again after so, so long. She's accepted them as ghosts, not quite solid but real in the way that matters. In her darker moments, she wonders if perhaps she's gone insane. And in those moments she does not mind so much.

Regardless, the air is sharp and clear by the water. Kareem loops his arm over Maketh's shoulder, bumping against her playfully.

"So serious!"

Itani kicks him, though not too hard. "Behave."

"I take offense to that! I never behave!"

Maketh laughs just a little. It's comforting to fall back into these patterns, like she never left them. And yet it's been almost twenty years...

Well. Here they are.

She sees a flash of fire, and a disturbance over the water. Two figures standing on the bank.


mismanagement: (011)

[personal profile] mismanagement 2017-06-22 02:10 am (UTC)(link)
Itani presses herself against Maketh's side. She feels too warm to be a dream, far too solid. Kareem's arm is heavy on her shoulder. A comforting pressure. This is going to last, Maketh thinks. It's going to be all right. "Hello. I don't -- I don't know you."

She pauses, takes a step closer. Kareem steadies her.

"This is Itani, and Kareem. They were -- they're my friends."

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-22 15:06 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-23 23:42 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-24 17:52 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-24 21:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-25 00:08 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-25 17:01 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-25 19:09 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-26 22:06 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-28 03:03 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-28 19:37 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-29 16:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-06-29 17:59 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-07-01 15:35 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] mismanagement - 2017-07-03 02:27 (UTC) - Expand
synthedick: (♠ the hold out)

29th; The House

[personal profile] synthedick 2017-06-22 09:38 am (UTC)(link)
Nick has wondered what he should say, and if he should say anything at all.

It's not that he doesn't trust Rey to come to him when she's got problems, or that she's never been away from home for over a day before. Sometimes, it's out of necessity: she's keeping tabs on Sato, or she's working the Speakeasy she started. There are days when the Door opens that they both spend all night out, sweeping the streets to keep it clear of monsters. At times, she's out there helping someone else through a tough time, doing the good she often insists she doesn't do. Worry as he might, Nick knows she'll come home eventually.

But she's been so undeniably absent lately, distant: she hasn't come home when she usually does on most nights, has been increasingly quiet when she is at the house. She stays shut up in her room, sleeping. Given how little she usually rests, that was the first sign of trouble right there.

But he didn't want to push. He didn't want to stick his nose where it didn't belong, make her feel like he didn't trust her. He'd done that before, let his concerns get the better of him and tried to step in when he shouldn't. She's not Jenny, he'd reminded himself. Rey can take care of herself. She'd come to him when she was ready.

What he didn't realize in the early days of the gods' latest ordeal was what that she had other family in town. He'd caught sight of her a few times wandering in town, talking to herself. There was something going on with the gods -- there had to be.

And so he'd waited. She wasn't Jenny -- he wouldn't lose her. She could handle this.

It was the 26th when he finally saw who Rey had been talking to for days: a woman, golden hair, green eyes. He hadn't seen her on the network, nor anywhere else in town. He'd tried to bring it up in a roundabout way the next time saw Rey, but she avoided the conversation. She didn't want to talk. It didn't take words to see what was happening to her, though: she was sick. Sleeping more. Not answering his calls.

He wanted to trust her. They're family, aren't they?

They are, and if there's one thing Nick has come to understand about Rey, it's that she will do things with no real regard for herself. They've established that they're in this boat together -- that if one of them goes, the other might follow soon enough. They take care of one another, whether they like it or not.

And that's what's on his mind as the woman emerges from Rey's room on the night of the 29th, her fair hair so vibrant, so full of life. She knows his name; she knows his face. She says she wants his help. Her tone sounds genuine enough, but Nick wants answers before he agrees to anything. If this is someone the gods sent from Rey's world, there's no telling what kind of wolf is hiding beneath that veneer of a gentle lamb. He'd like to think if she's someone Rey would tolerate all this time, even keep from him, that she might be a friend -- someone who can be trusted.

But then again, Rey hasn't exactly been forthcoming with things lately. Nick stares this stranger down a moment, his golden eyes hard upon her. Despite all he has felt for days, he gives her the chance to speak first before asking his own questions: "I'm listening."
synthedick: (♠ getting technical)

[personal profile] synthedick 2017-06-22 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Nick's brow knits as the strange woman starts to give a name: Fiona. That's one he's heard before -- she's a figure from Rey's past, then. It's no coincidence she picked that pseudonym for the Guard's records, after all.

"I take it you're her mother."

Or she thinks she is, at any rate. It's not real when it comes to the gods; it never is. Still, it's a guess to this woman's identity, but one he feels confident enough to make. Rey isn't well, and given what else has been going on in the city for the past week, he's had his suspicions why -- suspicions he'd hoped he could confirm with Rey herself. If this is some shade of her mother, and she is the reason Rey is getting worse, well... he doesn't have to guess as to why she didn't want him to find out about her.
Edited 2017-06-22 22:31 (UTC)

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-23 00:58 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-23 01:37 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-23 09:53 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 00:17 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 01:49 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 02:33 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 03:32 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 04:58 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 06:16 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-24 08:12 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-26 02:15 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-26 07:09 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-27 00:26 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-27 01:58 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-27 08:51 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-28 01:50 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-28 08:25 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-06-30 07:23 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] synthedick - 2017-07-15 09:38 (UTC) - Expand
kingslight: (♕ I assume to presume)

I. 26th. Riverside

[personal profile] kingslight 2017-06-22 02:50 pm (UTC)(link)
It's that faint warm gust of wind that prompts Regis to turn his head. The lake here is a beautiful oasis from the hustle and bustle of town. In his self-imposed seclusion, the former King of Light would often linger here by the lakeside contemplating both the past and the present. There's no need to think of the future since his fate has already been sealed by death but until he's finally laid to rest, Regis must ponder his role within the present. The thought of ending his life has crossed his mind several times but Regis is certain the False Ones would be spiteful enough to return him to the living again. His lips quirk in a humorless smirk at that thought. They certainly would reincarnate him again, wouldn't they? He has won some of their favor since the city split into two.

A sigh passes through his lips as he wanders along the beaten path to spot a familiar face. There's Rey by the riverbank with her skin blistering red with a blond woman unfamiliar to him. He pauses for a time as he eyes this stranger, his mind warning him that something isn't right. Rey seems to be in no danger but Regis couldn't help but sense otherwise. An odd magic is afoot here within Hadriel, one that the former king can feel stronger and stronger each day. He is ignorant of the happenings here but he can feel that something is amidst. His approach is silenced by the rhythmic swaying of the gentle waves. As usual, he dons all black except for a hint of silver here and there thanks to the glint of a few adornments he still kept since his days as king.

"You would do well not to tempt them." Regis states after the watching the shark shrink back within the watery depths. He's mildly amazed that these monsters haven't died yet. It is merely a lake. No shark could possibly feed enough to keep their strength.
unitas: (▸lurking in the fog)


[personal profile] unitas 2017-06-23 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
The riverside has always been one of Sharon's preferred places. The soft lap of the water against the shore; the fresh scent that rolled off the rippling surface. It was a good place to sit down, to relax and forget that her whole world has collapsed under the weight of her loved ones—no, the fake ghosts of loved ones.

They act the same. Dahlia wants to protect her. Chris is overprotective with a dislike of Dahlia. And Sharon is stuck in the middle. They've soon learned to keep their mouths shut about one another.

When she spots Rey with another woman, Sharon has a sinking feeling the lovely blonde woman was just another hallucination and godly intervention. It would explain the weakness she felt, how her legs got sore from long walks. But how is she supposed to rid herself of this? Do they kill them? It makes her stomach roll.

She approaches the older synthetic woman with a call and wave,"Catching fish or playing with sharks?"

She tries to be easy, to act as if nothing is wrong, but her pallor is off and there are two people a distance behind her. One woman, garbbed in dusty clothes and mourning veil stands the furthest away, her gaze never leaving Sharon. The other stands much closer, his hair neatly done, though his outfit shows some tatter from absue.
unitas: (▸promise (reprise))

[personal profile] unitas 2017-06-26 07:08 pm (UTC)(link)
The ghost's reply forces Sharon to frown, though she does her best to rein it in. She has no trust in these beings; knows better than to put her trust in anything that falls outside of the usual (but then why has she not rid herself of her own hauntings).

She looks to Rey for confirmation. Is she really helping you, her gaze asks.

Christopher moves in closer but Sharon raises a hand to indicate he keep his distance. It's hard to look at him, to look at Dahlia, not without feeling waves of guilt and sorrow. Perhaps Rey is dealing with it better. She swallows,"Who is she?"

She's got no interest in speaking with most of these ghosts but it's hard not to see them as real people. She has to constantly remind herself: they're not real. She won't fall for this like she did with Rose. She won't get hurt that way again (though she already is).

(no subject)

[personal profile] unitas - 2017-06-27 16:36 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] unitas - 2017-06-28 18:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] unitas - 2017-07-02 20:55 (UTC) - Expand
foundafamily: (Default)


[personal profile] foundafamily 2017-06-25 03:01 am (UTC)(link)
Firo feels Rey fall from the casino area and trades baffled glances with 'Don Molsa.' He doesn't know who it is at first, but he's not slow to race over--or, well, he wouldn't have been if he weren't so goddamn tired these days.

"Hey!" He has to force the shout out of his throat, has to lean one hand on the wall as he drags himself into the speakeasy. It's much easier to kneel beside Rey (more like allowing his legs to finally give out) and grab her shoulder.

"The hell happened to you?"
foundafamily: (Default)

[personal profile] foundafamily 2017-06-26 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
Firo has little choice but to let this strange woman do the heavy lifting, or rolling, as it were. He curses the heaviness in his arms; he's accustomed to being more useful in a crisis than this.

"And who the hell're you?" Immediately, Firo can feel his boss's disapproving stare burning into his back. He shakes his head, then grits his teeth and presses a hand to his forehead; even the simple gestures make him feel dizzy and faint enough that he worries about simply toppling over. "...Sorry. Who're you to her?"

(no subject)

[personal profile] foundafamily - 2017-06-28 02:34 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] foundafamily - 2017-07-02 03:06 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] foundafamily - 2017-07-06 02:42 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

[personal profile] foundafamily - 2017-07-10 02:09 (UTC) - Expand
ushahin: (Watching you)


[personal profile] ushahin 2017-06-30 07:28 am (UTC)(link)
Guess who also has their mother following them around? Only in Ushahin's case, his is furry, lanky, muscular, with a muzzle and tail. A classic-looking werewolf, but definitely more wary and not likely to attack anyone. This is Sorash, the Grey Dam of the Were, Ushahin's adoptive mother, and dead for over a year now. She's currently concerned with how gaunt and pale her son looks, speaking to him as he stumbles through the entrance of the speakeasy. "Rest a while, my Dreamer. You must keep your strength up."

"I will be fine, Mother. This is temporary." He smiles adoringly at her, and while a muzzle full of sharp teeth means she can't smile back, her yellow eyes wrinkle up as well. Their heads snap in identical directions when they hear Rey collapse heavily on the ground.

Sorash is swift as the wind when she wants to be and she's the first to lope over on all four paws. Ushahin tries to follow, but has to stop, and brace himself against a chair as his strength threatens to give out once more. The Were places a rough but gentle paw covered in pads similar to a wolf on the woman's chest, checking to see if she's still breathing.

Ushahin finally makes his way over, shaking his head at her prone form. "Is she--?"

"Alive." The Grey Dam addresses both her son and Undine. "But she is weak. Ushahin, fetch some water." He dutifully goes to do as his mother asks.
ushahin: (Default)

[personal profile] ushahin 2017-07-14 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)

Ushahin brings back the water, setting a pitcher of it down along with a few cloths. Sorash takes one of them, soaking it, before dabbing away at her wrists and neck lightly. She is a compassionate soul when she is not being wary of people and she is determined to do what she can for the woman. Ushahin looks up in alarm when Undine mentions that Rey is cold. He knows what that means. He's been inside her mind before. She's the Salamander and her force should be burning away within her. Now, it appears her fires are guttering out.

Ushahin brushes up against Rey's mind, trying to revive her mentally, though the effort saps even more of his strength. She feels so tired, the same way he's been feeling for days now. "Come now. Time to wake up. Your mother is worried," He tells her telepathically, trying to get her back to consciousness.