auroraexpress | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Everyone
When: Day 20, evening
Where: The train and surrounding terrain

[So after all the earlier excitement.... dramatic organ music starts to play through the cars. There's no obvious source. It's just... There? All around you for a while, before fading.

Of course before the music fades there's more things going on. A mist seeps up from the earth outside the train and within the train simply seems to form like it's produced by invisible fog machines. As the mist grows into a thick fog, you can hear eerie noises. Distant wolf howls, the screech of a fox that sounds like human screaming, owls hooting hauntingly, the leathery flap of bat wings, and other, less identifiable noises of the night, strange and otherworldly.

If you go out in it, breathe it in, the mist will chill you. Make you desire... Touch.

The need to hold another person is an almost growing compulsion, but it can be fought.

However things that are harder to avoid are the flowers, night blooming wisteria in white and purple seems to have grown from nowhere in the train cars, hanging down to brush the heads of passengers with sweet scented blossoms, and the floors of the train and ground around it have become endless beds of gently glowing moonflowers.

The only places the fog and flowers don't reach are team cabins.

Effects:

Mist:

Cold that cannot be dispelled without touch, a desire to touch others.

Wisteria:

Purple blossoms cause an empathetic bond with the next person you touch.

White blossoms cause arousal and a mild to powerful aphrodisiac effect.

Moonflowers:

Share memories or thoughts with the next person you touch.

By morning the mist and flowers will vanish.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He's just going to flop backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. ]

Your cabin's really bright. The pink aesthetic doesn't suit you at all.

I'm aware.

[He leans back on his hands, looking down at Crow.]

...Naturally, the one thing I didn't want you to see... Why is that the thing you saw?

Probably because it's the one thing you didn't want me to see.

[ He drapes an arm over his eyes. ]

So I'm dead.

[ It's a statement of fact.

There's something darkly ironic about that, Crow thinks to himself. During the social bingo game, he'd told 80H that he was afraid of dying. Somehow, he thinks finding out he's already dead may be worse. ]

[Rufus and Randy haven't mentioned anything, and while it bugs Jusis that Crow looks older, what he remembers is all he knows. Which means, as far as he's aware, that was the end of Crow Armbrust.

And he hates it.]

...Yes.

[ If Jusis doesn't somehow find out the truth before OOC November-ish, TOCS3 memories are going to be a hell of a surprise for them both. That being said, it bothers him as well that he looks older when he looks in the mirror than when he did in the memory he just saw, but...

...the dead don't come back to life. Maybe there was just a glitch in Cardamom's matrix. ]

....Okay.

[ Not okay. Not okay at all. ]

You know it's okay to be upset about it. I am.

[Rean would probably have something heartfelt and sincere and pointed to say that would reach Crow's emotions. Jusis... Is trying his best.]

What's there to be upset about?

[ Everything. His arm doesn't move. ]

Not everyone gets to go into overtime after their number's up.

[He reaches out, bracing a hand next to him while he wraps his fingers around Crow's wrist and lifts it, looking down into his face.]

I know concealing your feelings is a habit, and even one I can empathize with. However, as it's come to this, what's the point of pretending you're fine? You even smiled for all of us, and yet... You're here.

If you can't be upset about it, I can.

[ He hasn't been able to rearrange his face into something presentable, so there's something vulnerable and visceral and yes, upset, in his expression for a brief moment before he slams his eyes shut. He can't look at anyone right now. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before he speaks. ]

Being upset about it isn't going to change it.

So what? Should you only have feelings about things you can change?

[ He hates it! Being upset about being dead is a matter of being upset about something he can't do anything about! He can't fix it, he can't change it, he can't even really move past it-- what does it even mean for him? He's just going to drop dead again once they restore the universe, once he isn't needed for this? Once the universe remembers he's supposed to be gone? ]

Yes.

[ His tone is stubborn, unreasonable. ]

What's the point in breaking down over things I can't change?

What's the point of holding it in?

You died. The rest of us had to mourn you. It broke Rean's heart--and not just his, either. All of us loved you, it doesn't matter if you remember.

Isn't it okay to be frustrated? To be upset and sad and broken up over it? Not one of us didn't cry. So there's no reason you shouldn't mourn too. Out of anyone, you have the most right.

Stop.

[ Because his eyes are burning and his chest is aching and he refuses to cry over this, doesn't think he's capable of crying but it hurts. It hurts to mourn a life that he can't even remember but it was his and now it's gone and he can't even remember his own regrets. But he's grieving-- grieving himself, a life cut short and he hates it. He hates it, it hurts and it's painful and upsetting and he feels like he wants to scream or cry and he doesn't know which.

And it's not that he can stop himself from feeling these things, he doesn't even want to deny them-- but he wants to minimize them, to make them smaller. Lesser. Shrug and laugh them away, as if burying them deep within himself can contain them.

He doesn't want to break down. Not in front of anyone. ]

[He tightens his hold on Crow's wrist a little, presses it down to the mattress but that's the only way he's confining him, other than leaning close.]

I may not be your best friend, nor even your closest. Not in my memories or your lack of them. But I'm still--to me you're my friend and someone dear, and whether you remember it or not will not change it. You needn't have the same feelings in return. I make you this promise; whatever happens does not leave this room, nor will I exploit or expose your vulnerabilities.

Your life's end was unfair and unjust and I have no words that will ever make it anything but wrong. At the least, isn't it acceptable to mourn? I cannot say if it will help, but I do not think now is the time for stoicism.

[He lets go of Crow's wrist, inhales slowly.]

Even I want to cry when I'm sad and frustrated, Crow.

[ What Crow thinks is this: Accepting Jusis' promise is a leap of faith he's not entirely comfortable making, but... he doesn't think he's a liar, either. Awkward, rude, socially inept. Avoidant. But not a liar.

He turns onto his side, not quite curling in on himself but perhaps something close to it. He's not looking at Jusis. He's not looking at anything, really, just the wall of Jusis' room and images flashing in his mind. And maybe he'll regret the vulnerability later, but maybe he'll let himself grieve for a little while. It may not be immediately apparent-- Crow's a quiet crier, his harsh and uneven breathing the greatest clue, but it turns out he is capable of it after all.

He's not going to say anything in response to Jusis for a while. ]

[He settles at Crow's back and, somewhat awkward, pets his hair, looking away from him while he cries but still trying to be here all the same. He's definitely awkward and not great at these things, but he's trying his best to be a comforting presence.]

[ He'd appreciate the not looking if he were really up for noticing that much right now-- does appreciate the awkward hair petting. Jusis wouldn't have been his first choice for comfort before and he really isn't now, but it does help. He's quietly grateful for Jusis even as he's letting himself hurt.

Eventually, his shoulders stop shaking and the tears stop coming. His breathing evens out. But his eyes are red and his face is splotchy from crying. Frankly, he's a mess. He's more than a little embarrassed at crying, awkward and uncomfortable and inwardly cringing at how very uncool it was. But... it's not as though the pressure is gone, but he feels hollowed out in a way that maybe he can move forward from now.

It doesn't mean he wants to walk out of that damned door and back into the sea of people who will instantly know he was crying, though. ]

...Thanks.

[ Don't make him clarify! ]

[Jusis is stuffy and shy and easily embarrassed himself so he's... Definitely sympathetic to feeling uncool and hating being vulnerable ever. He glances down at Crow, without stopping the playing with his hair, and looks away again quickly.]

Any time.

...I'll get you something to wipe your face.

[He's getting up reluctantly, thinking a warm wet washcloth might be needed.]

[ A warm washcloth is definitely needed. Crow sits up and rubs at his eyes, nodding slightly and not looking at Jusis just yet. He's going to need to collect himself, put himself back together, but he's not quite ready for that part either. ]

[He fetches a washcloth quickly, returns to hand it to Crow while sitting next to him.]

[ Crow presses the washcloth to his face, and it takes him a moment before he's finished with it. It helps at least a little, and he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. ]

...You're really not so bad after all, huh?

[ His voice comes out a little quiet but steady. ]

What sort of impression did you have of me?

[Oh right that conversation with 80H. Crow didn't like him. Well, whatever. He holds his hand out to take the cloth so he can put it aside.]

[ He hands the cloth back to Jusis. ]

I figured you were a stuck-up, self-important jerk.

[ Well at least it's honest? He doesn't know which memory of his Jusis saw and he's been thoroughly distracted from finding out at the moment. ]

Hmph.

[He sets the cloth aside. It's not like he doesn't know that's the impression he gives anyway.]

In either case, how do you feel?

[ Not ready to face people yet, but there's only so much vulnerability he can handle admitting to and he's already exceeded his limit for the next six months or so. ]

I won't say "better"— [ Because that'd be a damned lie, and an obvious one at that. ] —but I've got a handle on things now.