}| 55 |{

[never_very_good]

[OFF NETWORK / ACTION FOR EDEN]

[It's still dark when he wakes up, and the only thing he knows for sure is that something's wrong.

He feels-- it's hard to pin down, to define as anything other than wrong on a fundamental level. Sick. Cold, though the weather isn't (though as he thinks it the air in the room trembles a few degrees lower.) Not hungry, but almost; tearing apart inside, like--

like starving, like bad blood, comes the unbidden thought, and he's running for the bathroom-- though if he's right, if there's something to see, there won't be any way of seeing it. When he catches sight of himself in the mirror, rubbing at the edges of his (perfectly normal) ears, the rush of palpable relief is followed by a heavier stab of nausea which has him doubled over retching uselessly. He shuts his eyes. The room darkens; the sparse light turns palpably blue, the tiles curling into sharp, flaking edges around him as the too-heavy air loses a little more heat.

He gasps for breath, in the grasp of errant, borrowed magic, clutching weakly for some purchase on the situation.]

[TEXT; mid-day]

Never know what to expect, these weekends.

Spending this one in, I think.

[TEXT; Private to Amory Felix]

This is you, yeah? Tell me what the fuck to do.

[ooc; powerswapped with fatespoken, and trying not to accidentally destroy reality ;3]

Comments

[eiremagic]

[She's moving after him, the feeling of magic under her skin]

Frankie, Frankie-

[She's worried]

[never_very_good]

[It's cold in here, though that's not why he's shaking. Frankie's kneeling on the floor (it's slick as obsidian, unbroken underneath him, unreflecting,) resting on white-knuckled fists.]

I don't-- fuck,

[he manages to hiss out. The worse he feels, the harder it is to get a grip on reality.]

[eiremagic]

[Her scars ripple in response]

Cara, cara.

Breathe.

[never_very_good]

[He's trying, though his chest feels like there's a cinderblock on it. At least focusing on that means there's a little less bleed of wild magic. It isn't his; it still feels like Amory's, not that Frankie's got the sense to know the difference.]

It's cold. Curse?

[eiremagic]

[She touches him and her nose bleeds as her scars start to take in the bleed]

Yes.

[never_very_good]

[He tries to pull back, the edge of the bathtub curving slightly behind him as he does.]

Don't-- [A ragged breath.] --hurt yourself.

[eiremagic]

[She seems to ignore that. She just lets the magic pulse]

Frankie, you're what matters.

[She reaches for his face]

[never_very_good]

What the fuck is going on?

[eiremagic]

You've magic.

[The more magic she takes in, the darker her eyes get, black and deep]

[never_very_good]

Supposed to make me feel sick?

[Because he does. It helps, a little, but even channeling the worst of it away isn't relieving the sense of heaviness, the wrongness set deep in his chest. Fuck, how does anyone stand it?]

[eiremagic]

[Her scars are looking raw]

Dunno how Amory's magic works. He's always sick, I know that.

[never_very_good]

[Mentally he recoils, and somehow there is more space between them, though he hasn't moved. A gold-eyed memory flickers across his face; the smell of blood, too much a part of the nightmare landscape leaking from his subconscious.]

Call him then. Stop,

[he says, biting his lip, voice firm but mind uncertain. He doesn't want to-- do whatever will happen, if she can't rein this in, but he doesn't want her bleeding for him.]

[fatespoken]

[ There's an audible breath before Amory responds, the tone of his shaky and raw, lacking even a scintilla of his usual persona. ]

I can't tell you what to do, Frankie.

[never_very_good]

Should be able. You're used to dealing with it.

[He's not angry, really, just miserable and ill-prepared.]

1/2

[fatespoken]

No, I'm hardly used it.

Our kind only inherit our powers once. What you're dealing with, it's something greater than either of us, causality trying to force itself within mortal bounds.

2/2

[fatespoken]

First off, you need to get the fuck out of there. Away from Eden. The mountains?

Secondly, the army teach you any tricks for keeping calm?

[never_very_good]

Eden's been helping. Probably the only reason the apartment's standing.

Can't just drink myself asleep, can I?

audio

[fatespoken]

You can't.

You think any amount of drink is going to be strong enough? All you will end up doing is losing whatever control you have now. I suspect it's none.

The only thing you can do now is calm down. Can you do that for me, Frankie?

Breathe.

audio

[never_very_good]

Not that bad, right now.

[He doesn't sound even remotely comforted, and why should he? Frankie was hoping for more advice, less pessimism.]

Was calmer before.

audio

[fatespoken]

I wish I could do more for you, Frankie.

[ He's talking around the issue because there's little advice he can give; his mother, as kind as she had been, had done a piss poor job at preparing him. ]

But I can't.

[ A beat. ]

Unless you want to try something dangerous?

audio

[never_very_good]

Dunno. What're you thinking?

[He'll weigh the risk; leaving the apartment doesn't feel safe either, though he understands Amory's logic. There's a lot less to damage out in the wild, and though the worst of the impossibilities of space had faded in the bathroom as Eden had calmed him, they might still have to move if the curse ending doesn't reset the damage. Or he can't manage to figure out how to fix it.]

Re: audio

[fatespoken]

There's one thing I may be able to teach you. Get it wrong, and you might lodge yourself in the bedrock of the mountain.

audio

[never_very_good]

Fuckin' great.

And if I get it right?

Re: audio

[fatespoken]

You get to be Walden.

Solitude in a forest and plenty of space to fuck with the world.

audio

[never_very_good]

Tell me.