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UNHOLY DISORDER
[Something is wrong with the room you are in.
At first blush, it seems normal enough. It's nicely furnished, lavish dark oak, brass and a rich green drapery and carpet. Except in the middle of the room, a simple glass box sits wrapped in chains. Inside, a heart rocks back and forth as it beats, chambers constricting and relaxing around air.
But the more you look around, you might notice that the rafters beyond the brass lamps are made of bone, spine connecting them all. You might notice that the binding on all of the books seems to be an unusual leather. You might notice that teeth have been used as nails.
You almost can't help but notice the strange ... give... under your feet. Whatever is under the carpet seems almost spongy.
You know, instinctively, that the heart is in danger.
But so are you.]
At first blush, it seems normal enough. It's nicely furnished, lavish dark oak, brass and a rich green drapery and carpet. Except in the middle of the room, a simple glass box sits wrapped in chains. Inside, a heart rocks back and forth as it beats, chambers constricting and relaxing around air.
But the more you look around, you might notice that the rafters beyond the brass lamps are made of bone, spine connecting them all. You might notice that the binding on all of the books seems to be an unusual leather. You might notice that teeth have been used as nails.
You almost can't help but notice the strange ... give... under your feet. Whatever is under the carpet seems almost spongy.
You know, instinctively, that the heart is in danger.
But so are you.]
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You roll a 19/20 and are trying to combat off a full blown panic attack. ]
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Hey, Phoenix, dude. can you do me a favour and just focus on me for a minute? My voice, my breathing, any of that.
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I swear - it's just.
So loud.
[ it's not loud at all. ]
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Okay, it's okay. You're doing good. Is it okay if I touch you? I want to let you feel my breathing so you can follow it.
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Nods. He tries to still himself, it does not work. ]
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In and out, in and out, like that. Just follow the rhythm, you can do it.
I'm going to try something else, okay? Just - trust me, and keep focusing on your breathing, and it should help quiet things down.
[ first of all, he will let himself focus on that tingling feeling, that ticklish, light presence that he instinctively knows is a Blessing brushing against him, and... carefully, pull on his own Blessing to snuff it out, to muffle it like a blanket dropping over a bird cage. Normally, he'd stop at turning off how it affects him - normally, he can't do anything else, but. But Phoenix is on the edge of panic and Forte is in pain and something is up, so he stretches the blanket out, frowning in concentration, pushing his limits to make everything quiet for Phoenix's Blessing. Ideally, silent, but at least quieter. ]
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He can still feel it - he can still hear them so much louder than anyway possible -
And he breathes slow, steady. And right along.
And then the world goes quiet for once and he gives a small quiet gasp, like a sense has been turned off that he's never quite figured out. ]
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That's it, there you go. Just breathe, nice and easy. It's okay, it's me, you're okay.
[ but is Heron okay, ]
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Ah, but you. The anxiety and pain seemed to need to go somewhere. Your skin sweats and goes pale, you shudder unconsciously, sick and throbbing. Blood pours from your nose, wells up in your tear ducts and down your face.]
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but he has to be. he has to focus. focus the fuck up, Heron. Disorder needs him, they can't all be panicking and passing out and bleeding out on the floor oh that is so much blood he can taste it, feel it gushing hot and free, see it why can he see it - it's fine. it hurts but that's fine it's fine it's better that it hurts him than Phoenix, who is just a kid, who was on the edge of breaking. Heron won't break. he won't won't won't he refuses to it's just pain pain so much pain and the blood and anxiety - oh, he was already anxious and it's overflowing, his heart rabbiting in his chest but it's okay. he knows how to breathe, when his mouth and nose aren't full of blood at least, breathe, breathe and focus, Phoenix is just a kid and Heron is -
Heron is -
- spitting out blood and shuddering, hunching over with a pained noise right in front of Phoenix, clutching his hand against his chest - ]
Hkk, ahh... nng.
[ - Heron is fine. He's fine with this. Better him than anyone else. He can take it, can shove the pain and anxiety down, down, down, like his - like he's taught himself. lock it up in a box and spin the locks, two, four, eight. breathe.
He slaps his free hand on the ground and raises his head. ]
- Good. Great. That's great. Doing better?
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[ Which is to say, Heron blissfully turns everything off - Forte who he hears almost as clearly as Dove most days. Maybe not as clearly as Gingham's become, but so so loud. He turns off the screaming that's consumed him - literally, almost. It's quiet. He's not getting those spike of thoughts with those feelings. ]
[ And he can't linger on how strange it is or the sensation of loss, because as suddenly as he looks up - Phoenix has been intune with people for so long that he doesn't need the other knowledge to see something wrong. He doesn't need it as he breaks a little on the inside, swallowing something down. ]
[ Because Heron is not okay. Visibly. The expression the blood and then - He gives a sharp breath. ]
You're not.
[ It's quiet and shaky and not entirely solid as he tries to figure out what to do. The only panic that rises in him is his own and for as crazy as that is - He can compartmentalize. Focuses on a stillness on a desire to do something more,]
You're not. But I am - I can help -
[ And he, unthinkingly, as impulsively as ever when it comes to someone not his own raises a hand that glows a light blue as he tries to focus (a 12/20, so he can but only just) and tries to think to give the words, pausing so the light dimmers down because he asks first (6/20) ]
If - you want me to.
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But - and the anxieties latch on, shaking through him as the words stall in his throat, but. That's a Blessing that Phoenix is asking if he can use on him. It was a Blessing that caused Phoenix distress beyond the normal, that went so haywire he was on the edge of a panic attack. It's his own Blessing, now, that isn't working as it should, that is diverting and absorbing the pain pain pain and anxiety and wrongness and making him bleed instead of shutting everything off, a sponge instead of a blanket. What if... what if by accepting Phoenix's help, he makes things worse for them again? He can't risk it.
And, sure, he could explain that to Phoenix as a basis for refusal. He might accept it. The thing is, he might also not - he can see the worry, the urge to help others, the impulse that has Phoenix's hand glowing already even if he paused to ask first. He's practically using it already, he might just decide he doesn't care about the risk in the face of Heron's obvious distress.
So. Game plan. He'll admit his concerns, sure, but he needs extra. He can do extra. It's fine. It's just pain and blood and - and focus.
He coughs thickly, wetly, then smiles, shaky and tasting the blood in his teeth. Shakes his head. ]
No, I - I'm not okay, but it's not as bad as it looks. This just happens when I push myself, but I promise, it - [ pauses, spits blood like he's used to it, wipes his face. keeps smiling. ] - it always looks way gnarly but it'll be fine once I sleep it off. It is a bit more - goretastic than usual? But I think that's because our Blessings are being messed with when we use them. Which is another reason you shouldn't. Please.
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[ He decides that's not a good thing. ]
[ Because in a moment like this he'd know. He'd make the decision. He'd be able to tell so easily and for now - he has to trust his instincts. Or the people around him to not lie.
Because he's Also Gonna go do something Stupid I guess.The urge is there, the desire. He needs to help and his mouth twitches. ][ There's so much blood. He does not believe Heron, but he trusts his wishes (19/20). Closes his eyes tight to keep from looking at him or from letting the tears built up from falling. Then he breathes out. ]
Okay.
[ Because it's all he can muster in his desire to do more. He shrugs off the jacket he's wearing and hands it to him. ] At least use this to help stop it. Please..
[ He pleads back, desperate for anything to do or to fix what he's already broken. ]
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It'll. . . probably be okay?
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[ "I know. It's fine." He wants to say, but the voices are just a constant sound. He can't focus on a personal worry, because he feels Forte's panic and fear too and being much closer to him now he's. ]
[ Not thinking this is okay. ]
We've got to help him. We've got to help them wherever they are-
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[ It almost works since he closes his eyes and manages to blink back some tears and - ]
[ Gets up. ]
There's something - someones? - else here. They're -
[ Okay, books were bad ideas but what if he goes to press a hand to the wall. He can't direct his blessing, so it's just - loud, but he's ??? Curious ??? ] Is this you?
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No.
No it's more.. primitive. What comes back is no less muddled and no less strong. There's urges, pulses. Needs and demands. Contractions and relaxation. The waltz of impulse and response that has come from time immortal.
It hurts.
You hurt.
You notice the blood staining your shirt and taste it in your throat before you REALIZE your nose is bleeding. ]
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a thing. A thing that makes him linger there.
It hurts. He hurts.
Metallic tinge feels his mouth and its with a startled yep he steps back from the wall. One hand going to wipe at his nose that is bleeding - so, so much, so quickly. Why? But.
Unfortunately. He's stupid and an empath and unless no one's stopping him (yet) he's still looking for the voice - the
He goes back to the books, trying to pick up the one he dropped. ]
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Your fingers brush against the book, touching the skin it is bound in... your mind opens again, pouring into the miasma of suffering.
Except... it recognizes you this time. You are a little too in tune. A little too much like an echo of their own wailing and screaming.
The book twists in your hands, and a mouth forms in the skin. It begins to devour your hand. Then forearm, and then elbow. It draws you into the pages, into its story..
After all. You belong there. ]
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[ Okay, who cares about the books screaming now it's HIS TURN TO SCREAM and also try to like somehow shove himself away from a book that is -
that's not working his hand is gone and then his forearm and, he doesn't want to be part of that story he doesn't - ]
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[ going to reach for Phoenix to pull him back ]
You can't have him! [ to. the book but also ] C'monnn.
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- But she gets to him just before the teeth would close on his head and neck, before his mind would join.
With one amazing heave, he is pulled wetly from whatever was inside.
What side of him was in the book is now stained with words that make no sense and mean nothing. A literary scream.]
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Okay, familiar is not the right word. But it sure is ironic. Like being pulled into another life, another make believe world except -
He can feel their pain like its his own, from the crazy loud voices. He is one of them - wherever they are he belongs there. He has to. He's pulled and pulled and the story becomes his own, the pain becomes his own. Words and stories and lives tear and etch and then -
He hears Buttercup in a distant way, unreachable. Unable to truly be known because she is there and he is here and now -
Now, in the last moment, before he can be pulled he's back and gasping for air, the scream is still in his throat and the book is dropped. Forgotten (fully). But the lingering feeling doesn't loosen.]
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