bakerstreet | let's get red

[Your scenarios are as follows:

1. The blood covering him is mostly his. He's been grievously injured, and is staggering around looking for anyone who can help.

2. The blood covering him is mostly someone else's. Victor's just had his own little "Hysteria Mode" moment, and someone's paid the price. (And if you want to do some sort of "mental world" situation, I can ACTUALLY have him in Hysteria Mode. I worked up a look for it and everything.)]

It was dark, black if not for the lamps illuminating the streets. He'd found himself wandering again, unable to sleep. Being a creation to serve mankind's deepest desires sometimes gives one a sense of confusion regarding their own identity, but Ryota is happy, at least, that he's mostly kept himself despite his physical and behavioral changes.

A quick walk down the street and a detour brought coffee to his hands, warming them further - not that he needed it. He'd simply desired something to occupy his hands.

He almost drops it when he finds Victor, soaked in blood, and...

He's not sure how his body and mind are reacting. There's a throbbing in his head, in his ears, and he can't seem to tear his eyes away. A paradoxical sensation of the urges to approach and to flee clash in his mind and root his feet to the ground. He almost feels breathless, and he takes a slow breath, and then another.

"...Victor...?"

He's surprised when he actually forms the words, but why has his voice increased by an octave or two? He's not sure. He's not sure what he's feeling at all.

Oh, he's soaked. Practically the whole front of his body has been dyed red. Victor himself is kind of staring off into some middle distance, eyes wide but unseeing. One hand loosely clutches a rough, jagged-looking blade. It's clear something's happened in his head tonight. Something bad.

He reacts upon hearing his name, head snapping around and eyes focusing on Ryota. For a moment, his muscles tense, his grip on the knife tightening, his teeth clenching. Then something inside his mind clicks into place, and he recognizes -- not a foe. Not someone to fight. Not someone to rip into and destroy and make it so they could never hurt him or the ones he loves again--

He blinks, his expression changing to one of almost-fright. He looks down at the knife in his hand. What -- where did -- he's -- he's soaking in --

The adrenaline that drove him so recently is gone now, and he's starting to shake. What have you done? a voice whispers in his mind, and he can't give it an answer. He lifts his head again, needing to see the relatively familiar face. "R-Ryota?"

He is so, so glad that he doesn't need to breathe; he feels like he'd be hyperventilating. He can feel his body shaking at the sight. Fear? But why is he afraid? That look is frightening, that he's regarded in such a way - he can see the clenched jaw - and his mind screams at him to run.

Instead, he drops his coffee. It feels akin to having an episode of breaking down - in that one off-chance hiccup. The loss of movement, of control, of collapse. Helpless.

If he had a bladder, he'd probably be pissing himself. He's never been afraid of someone's looks before - of a simple expression and a demeanor.

Despite his efforts to stay strong, his legs give out the moment his name is called out. He drops like the doll he is, as if strings were cut, and only barely manages to catch his fall on his hands. Judging by the strength of the fall, his hands have gotten roughed up. His mind subconsciously feeds himself this, due to his lack of pain receptors.

"Y-yes... it's me..." he murmurs in Japanese, for now unaware of the language blip. He's too preoccupied by the emotion that's gripping his heart. He's not even aware of how his eyes are wide and watery, and his face flushed.

Congratulations, Victor. The HC has now learned the emotion called fear.

"Ryota!"

Victor's first instinct is to rush over and make sure the poor HC is okay. It's not until he's almost at Ryota's side that it registers that what's got Ryota in such a state is him. He skids to a stop, nearly falling over. He -- he scared the young HC that badly?

His eyes drift down, take another look at himself -- at the blood just coating his clothes and skin -- it's even in his socks, he's squishing as he walks -- at the knife still in his hand, because he hasn't thought to drop it -- at the red everywhere and its not his, he knows it's not his. . .

The blade clatters out of suddenly-limp fingers as the full extent of what he's done hits him. "I -- I -- oh no no no no--" He's really shaking now, one bloody hand clamped over his mouth, the other yanking at his tie. "I'm n-not going to h-h-hurt you, I s-swear. . ."

But can he even trust himself? He's just -- he tries to remember what he's done, but all his brain can come up with right now are angry words and an internal scream and then just stabbing -- He backs away a step. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and he has no idea who he's saying it to.

It almost feels like slow motion when Victor runs at him - and the clatter of the knife on the ground visibly startles him. His ears finally stop ringing with his heartbeat just enough for him to hear what the man is saying. He sucks in a breath.

"Victor...?"

He tries to move before his body is willing to, but he manages to push himself up, to sit up. He ignores the coffee staining one leg of his pants, and, with effort, moves to sit on his calves. He reaches for the knife, and picks it up, blade facing towards himself.

"We.. need to get you cleaned up..." He focuses on tasks at hand, unsure how to process his emotions at the moment. Although he doesn't feel well at all, he forces himself to his feet. "Where.. do you reside? I will... I can..."

He can... what? He doesn't even know anymore. The emotion and sight before him is so shocking that his mind is relying on its default coding.

He can have the knife -- Victor sure as hell doesn't trust himself to hold it anymore. He manages to move his hand away from this mouth with an effort. "H-Houndsditch," he whispers. "The Houndsditch Home For Wayward Youth. . .but I can't go back there, not like this. . ." Maybe he could sneak in, but if Dr. Wilson saw him like this. . . He'd call the police, or -- or worse --

Rutledge.

Every one of Alice's stories about the insane asylum comes rushing at him, filling his brain with stories about vicious leeches and cold saltwater and electroshock machines and drills in your head -- Before he knows it, he's fallen to his knees, sobbing. "I don't want to go there! I don't want to be committed! I didn't -- I -- he just wouldn't shut up, him or his friend, they cornered me and taunted me and told me they were going to m-make me -- and they mentioned Alice, and I couldn't let them hurt Alice and one of them c-called me -- called me --"

For a split second, he can hear the scream that echoed through his brain, feel the rage pulsing in his veins, but it's gone as quickly as it came. "And suddenly all I wanted was to see them bleed," he whispers, staring at the pavement below him. "And -- I got hold of his knife, and then. . .it's a blur until I saw you." And thank whoever he was not far enough gone to attack Ryota.

It's like a splash of cold water. He moves at Victor's side in an instant, wrapping his arms around him (even if it's a stupid move) and not minding at all that he gets blood on his own clothing. He holds the knife carefully, not wanting either of them to be injured.

"It's okay. C-come on. I have a place to stay. Let's go there. It'll be safe. I swear."

He holds the knife a little tighter. He'll have to understand his fear later. Victor comes first.

"I'm not turning you in to anyone. If anyone challenges us, I can... I can fight...."

Shifting his grip, he then effortlessly lifted Victor up, not unlike one might for a bride.

Victor barely notices him talking, too intent on keeping himself -- maybe not calm, but stable. His head is just a swirl of emotions -- fright, sickness, worry, upset, and a touch of residual anger. He knows what he did now, more or less, and the knowledge -- it kind of makes him want to puke. Even as remembering what happened makes him feel so small and helpless -- and then so out of control -- how could such rage reside inside him? How. . .

He lets out a startled "Ah!" as he's lifted. He blinks a few times as what Ryota was telling him finally clicks. "Oh," he says, voice trembling. "I -- t-thank you. Though I h-hope nobody. . ."

He really doesn't want anyone else getting hurt today. He looks down at the pavement again, noting the cup. "I'm sorry about your coffee. . ." Perhaps an inane thing to say, but -- it's a tiny bit of normality in this whole abnormal mess.

"I'm residing in a rather skeevy part of town. No one asks questions except how much you want to pay for sex with them." He smiles sheepishly, then starts walking.

"I can brew more coffee later. I was just having an existential issue and needed to occupy my hands."

He's not putting Victor back down anytime soon. Certainly the splash of blood on his clothing could lend to him feeling cold, so he keeps him close in the hopes of keeping him from getting a chill.

"Though this works, too. You can have a bath when we get there and I'll let you borrow some of my clothing. Is that alright with you?"

"Maybe you're not far from where I live then," Victor says, grimacing. "That sounds rather like Whitechapel. . ." He shivers again, not out of cold but out of memory. "We heard you were pretty good at a few certain activities, swell. . ."

No, something to settle once they're off the street and he's cleaned up. "That's f-fine," he whispers, playing with his tie for a moment, but dropping it as the slick feeling of blood comes off on his fingers. He'll fiddle with his fingers instead. "A bath sounds -- wonderful, at this point." Clean away all this horror. . . The clothes part might be a bit trickier (Victor's 6-foot-3 and skinny as a rail), but there must be something appropriate from Ryota's wardrobe.

"Ah, yes, that would be it. Or rather, at the border of it." He gives Victor a slight squeeze, and hastens his pace. The apartment complex is noisy, which easily cloaks Ryota's hurried steps over a few flights of stairs and into his room, once it's unlocked. Unlike the rest of the area, Ryota's living space is not only very upkept, but gently bright and cheery, in a way. Plants happily rest in pots here and there, and if nothing else, it looks like he's done some massive repairs that would make it in a better condition than when he'd gotten it.

Once the door is closed and locked behind them, he sets the key on a nearby table. Victor is free to leave whenever he chooses. But, so that Victor doesn't get blood on the rugs underfoot, he continues to carry him across carpet, then tile and to the bathroom. He then sets him down. As Ryota is only an inch taller, though more widely built, it shouldn't be too hard to find something for Victor. He's still holding the knife, but he keeps its blade pointed away from Victor and always towards himself.

The bathroom is just as clean as the rest of the living space, although it being white causes the blood to smear where Victor steps. Ryota doesn't seem to mind.

"Here. I will be a moment while I bring you a towel and cloth. You're free to use anything you see - barring my toothbrush. I have a clean spare that you can use under the sink."

And he's off, taking the time to set the knife in the kitchen sink, wash up very quickly so as to not smear blood upon clean surfaces, and remove his clothing, barring his boxers. He very quickly brings back a fluffy towel and washcloth for him. It's during this process that he remembers that he should clean off the doorknob - but that will wait until Victor is cleaning up.

Victor's just glad they don't run into anyone. Him wandering around the East End covered in blood was bad enough -- he doesn't want to get Ryota in trouble as well. He's already being shockingly kind about all of this.

He looks around as he's carried inside. It does look homey in here -- maybe Houndsditch could use a few plants in pots. It would cheer the place up a bit at the very least. He lets Ryota take him to the bathroom -- it's slightly weird to be carried like this, but -- well, his shoes are covered in blood, and his legs feeling a bit weak.

He finally gets down as they reach the bathroom, leaning against the sink and trying to move as little as possible to prevent the bathroom from looking like a murder scene. He nods his understanding, having to bite back a ridiculous urge to laugh at the toothbrush comment. It seems -- inappropriate to do so. It wasn't even funny, not really. . .maybe he just needs something to relieve the stress.

He starts undressing a little as Ryota leaves, taking off his tie and jacket. He's not sure where to put them, so he leaves them in the sink basin. At least they're not dripping over everything there. He's taking off his vest when Ryota comes back. "Oh! Ah, t-thank you. . .I wasn't sure w-where to put these. . ." His brain seems to be working in slow-motion, making it hard to think clearly. No surprise, really.

Ryota smiles at the response with a soft laugh. "Don't worry. You could have thrown them on the floor for all I care. I would have had to clean it a bit before you walked on it, but I don't mind."

Setting the towel and washcloth aside, he puts the stopper in the sink and runs some cold water over some of his clothing, hoping to keep the stains from setting in. Thank goodness that the sink is big enough! He uses the running water to clean off his hands again.

"Take your time, just try not to get a chill if you stay in there long. I'll leave you some clothing outside the door." He has the strongest urge to comfort Victor with, well, he's used to ruffling hair or kissing someone's temple, but he doesn't want to make the man uncomfortable.

But there's a reason why he's in this bad neck of the city, sick as it may be. Sometimes the bars have attractive men. Sometimes.

"Is there anything else I can get or do for you? Anything at all."

"I just -- it's b-bad enough it's all over me. . ." Victor presses his hands to his face for a moment, trying to get his head to work. It's like, after the excitement in the street, he's trying to go on autopilot for a bit, but his stupid brain isn't quite letting him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Calm. Just -- stay calm. No more freakouts. We're going to wash away all this blood, and then -- well. He's not sure, but washing away all this sticky red is probably a good first step.

Temple-kissing would make him very uncomfortable, if only because of the possible memories it would bring up. Ruffling his hair -- maybe after he's calmed down and gotten settled. Right now, though, he's trying to keep himself from having another meltdown -- and besides, there's probably some blood in there too.

"You've d-done really enough already," Victor tells him, managing to make the corners of his mouth go up. "I'm s-surprised you didn't run screaming when I--" He stops, shakes his head. "Thank you." He rinses off his own hands under the water, shivering a bit at the cold. Gets the job done, at least.

"Jokingly put, I think it's safe to say that I know a hint of the sensation to "piss oneself frightened"." Never mind the fact that he couldn't have run even if he tried.

"In any case, I'll leave you to it."

He then headed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Taking a brief detour to clean the blood off of the doorknob, Ryota put out some fresh clothes for Victor outside the door, as promised, and began to make a bed of sorts using the living room couch, blankets, and a pillow, for himself.

Victor can't help a wince. "I'm sorry for -- for s-scaring you like that. I just --" He waves his hands for a moment. No, words are failing him. As usual. "I'll see you in a w-while, then."

Once Ryota's gone, he takes off the rest of his clothes, forming a little pile in and on the sink. He has no idea if the suit can even be salvaged, but might as well make the effort, right? Then he runs the bath and scrubs up, lathering multiple times to remove any lingering stains from his skin and hair. The water turns a disturbing pinkish color from his repeated washings, and he's glad to see it slip down the drain.

He dries off with the towel, then ponders moving the clothes from sink to bathtub. If they dry, they're going to be a wadded-up mess. . . He runs some cold water in the tub and carefully moves the suit, scrubbing his hands afterward and wiping up some of the drips and smears from before.

He retrieves the clothes and dresses, relieved to have something clean (if a bit baggy, but nothing to be done for that -- he's a stick figure, seriously). Finally dry and decent, he carefully heads out to see where Ryota is.

By the time Victor has finished, Ryota can be found napping on the couch in the living room, using it as a bed. Well, due to his lack of a need to breathe, while his skin is a healthy color, it's only the steady pulse visible along his neck (his head is turned) that shows that he's even alive.

The room looks perfectly clean again (minus the bathroom,) as if a blood-soaked man wasn't so much as whispering near the room. Some of the lights have been put out/turned off.

Oddly enough, Ryota not needing to breathe doesn't bug Victor in the slightest, nor does his unnatural stillness. Probably comes of having been around and practically befriended corpses for a day. He watches him on the couch for a moment, he straightens the blanket to make sure he's adequately covered. Poor repayment, but -- it's a start.

He's impressed with the clean-up job -- and glad that he doesn't have to face any evidence of what he did in here. Not sure what to do while Ryota sleeps, he putters around for a moment, looking at the plants. Because it's better than thinking about why his suit is soaking in the bathtub.

It's when he hears Victor puttering about that Ryota takes in a breath and opens his eyes.

"Ah... Victor? Sorry, didn't mean to nod off."

Moving slowly, he sits up on the couch and rubs his face. Admittedly, he still is only clad in shorts, but he doesn't seem bothered by his lack of dress.

"Meant to tell you, you can sleep in my room if you want. Or help yourself to something to eat and drink."

He's going to need to clean Victor's suit, too. And the bathroom.

"I won't get mad if you wake me up for things, either. Really."

Victor turns and looks at him -- and finally properly notes the lack of clothes. For a moment, there's a voice in his head screaming about propriety and how can someone be going around what looks to be just their underwear, but he manages to shove it away. It's Ryota's home and Ryota's business what he wears. And yes, it's much, much less than what Victor's typically used to, but he can handle it. So long as he doesn't have to get naked in front of anybody. . .augh, no, bad thoughts, bad thoughts. . .

Fortunately Ryota talking manages to pull his attention away from that. "Oh, I wouldn't want to kick you out of your own bed," he says, embarrassed. "And -- I--" Part of him wants a cup of tea, but he's not sure if his stomach would accept it. And right now he's feeling too keyed up to sleep (not that he sleeps well even at the best of times. . .). "I'm sorry, I'm just --" He shakes his hands a little in front of him, searching for the words. "Everything that's happened has left me in r-rather a state." It's the best he can do in the explanation department.

"Un." It's a small noise, and Ryota pulls some of the blankets around his body. There. Now Victor won't have to look and see.

"Then I'll keep you company. But really, is it called "kicking me out of bed" if I leave it for you to use? I can sleep in that bed anytime I want, but you're the guest.

"And if you know of anything that might help you calm down, name it, and it's yours."

Victor shoots him an appreciative look, though its tinged with embarrassment. It's nothing against you personally, Ryota, he's just -- raised to believe wandering around in your underwear was kind of a bad thing. (Then again, in his house, you could get shouted at for not wearing a full suit even in the confines of your own room sometimes.)

"I -- that's the thing, I don't know," Victor says, finally sitting down. "It feels like -- my head is m-moving both too fast and too slow. If that makes any sense at all." He lets out a deep sigh. "I don't want to sleep, I'm worried I'll be ill if I eat. . . I p-put my suit in the bathtub, by the by. With some cold water. And I tried to wipe up as much of the -- dripping -- as I could."

Edited 2013-03-29 21:44 (UTC)

Ryota generally doesn't get too cold or too warm, except in extreme temperatures. His inner workings perfectly maintain one temperature or another, depending on the weather.

Victor is more than welcome to bring about his embarrassment at the doll's lack of dress at any point.

The doll arches an eyebrow at first, then chuckles faintly. "That helps out a lot. Thank you. I'll clean it tonight unless you require me for anything."

A beat, and he considers something.

"I understand one's mind moving too fast. I was being repaired by someone dear to me, and it felt like... ah, how to put it...? How did he put it...? Like I'd snorted some drug called cocaine? The world moved slowly, but my head moved so dizzyingly fast, I was only partly aware of what I was thinking of."

A beat, and he laughs. "Then we thought that it would be a good idea to make gingersnaps drenched with icing."

Covering up with the blanket will suffice for now -- he's got other things on his mind to distract him from Ryota's mostly-naked state. "You're welcome," he murmurs. "And thank you. I don't e-even know if it can be saved, but. . .if you think you can try. . . ."

Victor chuckles. "Perhaps not the best idea, but it sounds better than what my mind's going through now." The smile fades. "I -- I want to think about what happened, I want to get it clear in my mind, figure out what to do about it. . .but at the same time I don't, it s-scares me, I --" He covers his face with his hands. "I killed someone," he whispers. Two someones, more likely." He wants to believe he just left them injured, but with the amount of blood that was on him. . .no, those two are definitely headed for the Land of the Dead.

let's get red

(AU) Victor Van Dort | Corpse Bride/Alice: Madness Returns

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Yaay, I was hoping to play this one :D

Happy to indulge!

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Slipping this in before school

I hope you have a good day! :3

Thanks! It was pretty good

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Sorry replies are kind of slow -- I'm chatting with another friend

No worries!

:D Thanks