bakerstreet | one line, two line

one line, two line

one line, two line
a jamjar* scenario crafter

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Oh, that's ... lovely. Really, so lovely. [ it's most certainly not lovely, but cassie still has a bright smile plastered on her face. it doesn't quite reach her eyes. ]

[Chris knows Cassie pretty well, in a weird way he kind of gets her, so he sees the way that smile doesn't reach her eyes and hears the way her voice deflates.]

[Jal had said not to get her anything, but it's her birthday! And yeah, maybe he couldn't really afford much, but some sparkly jewellery he maybe-did-maybe-didn't pay for from a market stall in town seemed nice?]

It's a bit shit. [Kinda disappointed, but Chris smiles and intones it like a joke and gestures for her to give it back.] Here, fuck it. I'll take it back, yeah?

[ gosh, you know when you just can't make yourself feel anything good or real, and then you go and you stomp on something that's supposed to be a gesture, and then you do feel something and it's just utter self-revulsion, that horrible, hulking feeling that you want to stop up with biscuits, sweets, pills, anything?

the smile remains on cassie's face like a grotesque mask, even as she twitches her head 'no,' fingers curling around the little box. ]

No, no. It's lovely. [ that word again, that's gone and lost all of its meaning. ] I want it.

[ she doesn't want it, will never wear it, but she wants it, or wants to want it, and now cassie lets the smile falter because she can't look any uglier than she does right now, right? ]

You remembered it. My birthday. Wow.

[ he doesn't know why he stops - the instinct to keep moving, to stay out of sight, is still strong in him, for all the old reasons and some excellent new ones. but there's something about the figure in the doorway that roots his feet to the pavement, and after a moment drags words out of him. ]

You okay?

[It's a skinny teenager who isn't dressed anywhere near warm enough for the chill. Torn jeans and layers of cotton and faded flannel are nowhere near enough to fend off the cold here, and it looks like she's trying to find some shelter from the wind in the shelter of a storefront.

She looks at him, equal parts hope and hesitation. The look of someone trying to decide if they're being offered help, or the opposite. She's careful to stay out of arm's reach of him at first, like a cornered rabbit.]

I'm not hurt or anything, just cold. [It's mostly the truth. She is cold- the dead are always cold. And she's staying out of the wind in the hopes no one notices her hair doesn't blow in it. And she's keeping her distance because there's nothing to her to grab but the cold air of the crypt.]

[ He stands there and processes this. Something about the girl's caginess, her mingled timidity and candor, pings an alarm, down in the depths. There are a lot of those, he's learning, and some of them are false: bells connected to wires that don't connect to anything. He has a feeling that this one does, but it's quiet, and he doesn't pull on that wire right now. ]

Yeah, it's. Pretty cold, I guess. [ And after another moment: ] There's a - there's - [ and fuck, fuck, where's the word? Just gone, suddenly, and he hates it when this happens, he should be at least be able to talk--

There's another pause that feels excruciatingly long, before he finds it and pounces on it. ]

Diner. On the corner. You should go in. They don't - they don't mind.

[ At least, they don't mind him, though he couldn't blame them if they did. ]

[She doesn't interrupt him, or rush his words, just listens and nods when he tells her about the diner. Even the word makes her shoulders ease up a little- the siren song of neon lights and fry grease and jukeboxes full of songs she recognizes.]

I uh... I don't have any money. [Calling up the hesitant shame she felt saying that when she was alive is easy- even if her reason for empty pockets is entirely different. And even if she did have it, anything she paid for would be ashes in her mouth. Food only counts for the likes of her when it's willingly given- an offering.] Do you think they have a lost & found? I could use a coat as much as I could a hot meal.

The young man shies off from the sudden touch like the wading bird he vaguely resembles, averting his eyes. "Excuse me," apologetic.

"My advice?" Ganymede grimaces, glances up towards the sky. "If those responsible for us being here are gods, draw their attention as little as possible. If we can. It'd just be safer that way."

"Stay very still," Alex warns, motioning to a blur in the path ahead. "It won't strike if you don't make any sudden movements."

[Though his voice is serious, there's also something within the electronic tone which suggests the man is almost eager for the danger that surrounds him.] I've been in a lot worse situations then this.

Don't need help. [Actually, yes, he most certainly does, especially with the blood that's continuing to ooze out from the hand pressed tightly to his side.]

That's literally the opposite of what it looks like, actually. All the Vitamin K in the world couldn't help that. [ honestly, all that blood's making amy go a little green around the gills, but. ]

[There's something rather like the growl of an angry feral dog that escapes his mouth. And like most animals, Rorschach will lash out when he's hurt and afraid. He straightens up and tries to walk off.] Fine-- [But he doesn't get more then two steps before he sways and nearly falls, a hissed groan of pain escaping him and cutting off anything else he had planned to say.]

[He just glares at you with those ice-blue eyes. Man, if looks could kill...] Either say something intelligent or fuck off already.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

one line, two line

cassie ainsworth | skins (uk)

SCREAMS

yall hear that sound of my heart shattering

James "this might as well happen" Barnes / MCU / ota, gen preferred

no subject

no subject

no subject

Gavir | Annals of the Western Shore | OTA

Ganymede | Greek mythology

Alex Price | InCryptid | OTA

The Mandalorian | Star Wars

Rorschach | Watchmen

no subject

no subject

Ivar "The Boneless" Ragnarsson | Vikings