acatalepsy_rpg | video, after the caverns

Entry tags:

video, after the caverns

So, correct me if I'm wrong about this.

[Hank doesn't bother with an intro, just starts right on in. The angle he's holding his wrist shows both his face and the stick he's dragging along the wall behind him, which has been in a fire at some point in the recent past and leaves a long black trail of ash over the wall as he walks.]

But when all you heroes trooped into the haunted caves under the mysterious freaky lake the communication plan was along the lines of, 'gee, if someone gets their feet ate off by some freaky bullshit I sure do hope they yell real loud so I can get there before they bleed out' right? I mean, I trust you guys know to make a post letting us all know if you need backup, but what if this- [Here the screen shakes as Hank wiggles his wrist, indicating the watch] -gets busted, or stolen, or whatever?

I don't know, I was just thinking, next time a bunch of us, or just anyone, goes into something that might get bad there should be some kind of post stuck to the top of our feed that we could all check, just something like this-

[He stops walking, still talking as he starts to scratch a little list in ash onto the wall beside him.]

Hey, I wonder how little Suzy's doing. Oh, she checked in an hour ago, she's probably fine.

[He writes Suzy on the wall, and a checkmark next to her name.]

How about JimBob the Murder Bot? Oh, he hasn't checked in for about seven hours, I should take someone to go look for him.

[Next to JimBob the Murder Bot he doodles a little skull. Sorry Jimbo, it's hard out there for a figurative probably-dead robot. Better luck next time.]

Or maybe you guys would rather do some kinda daily role call like in school or, hell, maybe it's just more fun to lone wolf your way through all this world saving shit, what do I know. Decide amongst yourselves. I might be around, I might not. Just thought I'd throw this out there. I'm gonna go eat.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

yeh like another missed opportunitys gonna make a fuckin difference

[That's it, isn't it? It's age shit. You can teach a rookie all the safety shit in the world but they've still gotta throw themselves against the rocks for a while no matter how stupid they think they know it is.]

fuck workin w kids is hard

It makes a difference. I've spent too much of my life not doing anything. So when I'm finally able to, it seems like a waste if I don't. I don't think that's an age thing.

fuck just call me wen ur up here not dead ok

I can do that. Or I can come see you. Where would you be?

my room just tell me 1st give me a heads up

Alright. I'll come bearing souvenirs.

god if its the death eels im just gonna throw up on u that ok

If somebody's been offering you death eels, I want in on that.

god of course u fuckin do. im sure theres lots of other deadly shit n there u can find so thats cool. just give me a couple hours ok nless ur like dying or sum shit but if ur ok ill see u then k

Yeah, but not eels. It'll be a while yet before we're back. I'll call you later.

[ a couple hours later, as promised, a phone call-- ring, ring, pick up, Hank ]

Yo. You still alive?

Unfortunately.

[ if he's in his room, Hank will hear the voice from his watch but also... right... outside his door...

What was the point of giving a heads up phone call if he's already here, idk, courtesy maybe ]

[Hank sighs, ends the call, and opens the door, leaning against the doorway. He rubs a hand over his face as he talks, his voice flat and tired.]

What's this 'unfortunately' shit, how bad d'you fuck yourself up down there?

[ Hank can see for himself— well, actually, he can't, because Minato comes wearing a conspicuously long sleeved shirt, pants, hands quickly sliding back into his pockets when the door opens and he doesn't need to hold his wrist up to his mouth anymore. ]

I'm fine, [ comes the immediate stock answer, and he turns the question back around. ]

You look exhausted. What happened up here...?

Well, we all figured we'd throw a real rager before you guys got back.

[Hank pauses a second, trying to think of some kind of clever punchline. His head still hurts; he sighs and gives up, pushing himself away from the door so Minato can follow him in. The only seat is the half of the bed Sumo's not stretched out on and Hank sees the empty bottle from last night as he heads back in - little fucker didn't call soon enough to give him time to clean up - so Hank just plops himself heavily onto the floor in front of the bottle, so Minato can take the mattress. It's about as subtle as Hank's capable of being right now.]

Come on, you can't just pull out a 'unfortunately, I survived' and then just clam up. This is the whole reason I wanted you here, come on, out with it. Which bodypart did you fuck up?

[ Minato shuffles through the door, but instead of taking a seat anywhere, he gingerly lowers himself into a crouch at the foot of the bead so he can lean his elbows on the mattress and hold his hand out for Sumo to sniff and say hi. He probably smells like fish and water, even after a quick bath and change of clothes.

"I'm fine," he wants to repeat again, but if he's just going to brush it off, what was even the point of coming here? ]

Mm... Everything? But it's not that bad- [ BACKPEDALS IMMEDIATELY ] I'm not bleeding out or anything. Just cuts and scratches and stuff. Things my body can heal on its own, even without magic.

Yeah?

[Hank watches him a second, looking assessing and tired, still, slumped over with his elbows on his knees.]

Sorry, kid. Don't know if I can trust you on that. What exactly happened down there?

Nothing happened, really... Just rough terrain.

[ He pulls a sleeve back up to the elbow- there are cuts all along his arms, long but shallow, sort of healing in that he's not bleeding, but still angry pink along the edges. ]

Oh- I have your souvenir. [ The sleeve gets rolled down before he sticks his hand in his pocket again, pulling out a clear bead- in the next second, it becomes a crystal shard, one end of it wrapped up in cloth. ]

[Hank watches it, then his face twists up in distaste.]

A magic souvenir from the freaky death caves. Wonderful. Kid...

[Then Hank looks back up at Minato's face, looking reluctant. After a moment he looks away.]

Okay. Whatever. Fuck. You planning on telling me what it does, or did you want to surprise me?

It's not magic. [ He thinks, anyways. He keeps it held out, too, until Hank looks back at it and takes it off his shaking hands. ]

You know how people pick from seashells from the beach, or stones from a creek, those sorts of souvenirs... That's what this is. I thought it looked pretty.

[ And it is, the way it shines, if you ignore what looks like blood stains on the edges that somebody- Minato, probably- didn't wipe off well enough. ]

[Unfortunately, Hank is a detective. It's unfortunate because he's been doing it so long that sometimes he can't turn it off - or sometimes he just doesn't want to turn it off, times like this, when instead of not noticing he stares for a second and then rolls forward onto his knees, like he's about to get up.

The first thing he detects is that if his little souvenir changing shape wasn't because of the object itself, it must of been because of Minato. He's honestly never thought about Minato having a power before - not that all of them don't, fuck if he doesn't know that better than he wants to.

The second set of things he notices, of course, kind of dwarf the first one. The way he's staring at Minato's shaking hands probably gives away what he's talking about, because he doesn't bother to explain.]

Christ, put that away. You'd better just be tired, or hungry, or something, if you're lying to me about being okay... swear to god, I don't have the patience for that shit right now.

[ He drops the shard back onto his lap, a little drown working its way onto his face for a moment before it relaxes into neutrality. His gift had been rejected, but that's fine; he can make use of it too, and just sticks it back into his pocket- it blinks into something smaller before it gets the chance to stab him in the thigh or anything, but he also turns around so his back is against the bed frame and he can hugs his knees to his chest. ]

A little tired, but I'm always that, so— [ "so you don't have to worry about it" He says it in his head, biting back the words before they can escape and Hank can tell him again that people are going to care no matter what. ]

...I get colds easily. It's probably just that.

[ Or an infection from one of his thousands of cuts, who knows?? not him, he's not a doctor ]

Jesus christ, you little shithead.

[Hank rolls from his knees to his feet, standing up and reaching out toward Minato's shoulder. What he intends to do is try to grab him and pull him up. What he does, just in time, is remember to stop his hand before it actually gets to Minato and drop it back to his side. It hasn't been that hard not to touch anyone, he's barely even had to try, but when this kid's sitting right in front of him looking so goddamn pathetic it's harder.]

Come on, up. How long's it been since you ate, or slept or - I don't know, any of that fun human stuff you probably don't wanna tell me whether you've been keeping up with?

[ It's kind of hard to miss when somebody reaches for you and then backs away, and if Minato is optimistic enough, he can tell himself Hank just wants to give him the autonomy to stand up by himself. He's capable of it, but he doesn't move at all, and instead just leans his head back against the mattress and stares up at Hank. ]

I ate before we set out. [ not saying what, exactly, or how much ] And I've slept plenty, too. There wasn't much to do down there, once we got to the end and couldn't figure out where else to go.

[ That, at least, he can assure Hank of: he gets enough sleep. He probably gets too much sleep, all things considered, but it's better than not enough. ]

I wanted to come see you first, anyways. I can eat and sleep and stuff after.

Can you though? You sure?

[Fuck, is this how Connor felt last night when Hank refused to get the fuck up off the floor and get to bed? For a second he almost feels sympathetic for the little fucker. Hank runs a hand through his hair.]

Fuck, what time is it? There's probably nothing made in the kitchen right now. If I have to actually make you soup I might give you some kind of medal for, I don't know, being really fuckin sneaky.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

audio

no subject

no subject

no subject

is this turning into a concern duel, only the winner gets to worry

yeah, that's how this is going to go

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject