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The blizzard all around you is unrelenting. An endless expanse of white, only broken up by the figures you're traveling with -- five children, a middle aged man, and an old woman -- and the outline of buildings in the distance. The latter should be a relief, a sign of shelter on the horizon, but when you arrive, it's abandoned. Not a light on anywhere in sight, and it's not like abandoned towns you've seen before. There's no signs of the usual reasons for it, no evidence of bandit raids nor Grimm attacks. This town wasn't destroyed or abandoned in the middle of construction.
The doors of some of the houses are locked, even. It's weird. The man kicks open one such door, because regardless of what's going on, you need shelter for the night or you will die in this storm. Stay on your guard, he tells the others as you look around for threats indoors, yet the house is silent and still. There are photographs on the wall identifying this place as Brunswick Farms. One of the kids offers to get a fire going; another goes in search of blankets. It's not long before there's a sudden scream from upstairs, and you all rush there, expecting a battle. A Grimm, at the least.
All you find is a pair of corpses, fully clothed, tucked into bed as though they had simply fallen asleep and never woken up. When you investigate the other buildings in town, every single house is the same. Corpses in their beds, peaceful and otherwise untouched. There's something terrifying about it; you've seen so much death all through your life, but nothing like this. No bodies that look as though they simply ceased to live one day, for no reason. You don't have the luxury of leaving, though; you will freeze to death in the storm outside.
So you force yourself to settle in, even knowing in the back of your mind that something is terribly, terribly wrong here. Hopefully you can get out before you find out what it is.
It happens so slowly, so subtly, you barely even notice it. The way your bones feel leaden and you're so t i r e d
every minute that passes starts to feel like a day, a week, a year
and you just
want to sleep.
Haven't you been through enough? Done enough? You've wasted so much of your life. You've nearly died, over and over
and over
and over
What's the point? Why bother? You're so
so
tired.
The doors of some of the houses are locked, even. It's weird. The man kicks open one such door, because regardless of what's going on, you need shelter for the night or you will die in this storm. Stay on your guard, he tells the others as you look around for threats indoors, yet the house is silent and still. There are photographs on the wall identifying this place as Brunswick Farms. One of the kids offers to get a fire going; another goes in search of blankets. It's not long before there's a sudden scream from upstairs, and you all rush there, expecting a battle. A Grimm, at the least.
All you find is a pair of corpses, fully clothed, tucked into bed as though they had simply fallen asleep and never woken up. When you investigate the other buildings in town, every single house is the same. Corpses in their beds, peaceful and otherwise untouched. There's something terrifying about it; you've seen so much death all through your life, but nothing like this. No bodies that look as though they simply ceased to live one day, for no reason. You don't have the luxury of leaving, though; you will freeze to death in the storm outside.
So you force yourself to settle in, even knowing in the back of your mind that something is terribly, terribly wrong here. Hopefully you can get out before you find out what it is.
It happens so slowly, so subtly, you barely even notice it. The way your bones feel leaden and you're so t i r e d
every minute that passes starts to feel like a day, a week, a year
and you just
want to sleep.
Haven't you been through enough? Done enough? You've wasted so much of your life. You've nearly died, over and over
and over
and over
What's the point? Why bother? You're so
so
tired.
Edited 2022-09-24 02:14 (UTC)
What? No.
Not 'no' as in 'no, I don't like this town full of dead people', although that's certainly part of things. 'No' as in 'no, I don't want to give up'. McGuckets aren't quitters. That's one of his best traits (or his whole problem, depending on who you ask). The point is that he catches himself sinking into the mire of complacency and every time he does he tries to forcefully jerk himself awake again, like a horse trying in frustration to shake off a fly.
So his version of 'settling in' is pacing, which is probably driving everyone else nuts, but if he keeps his body moving then he can keep his mind moving easier. Right? It must be because it's cold. If he keeps moving he'll keep warm, and not feel so tired, and it all follows very logically.
Not 'no' as in 'no, I don't like this town full of dead people', although that's certainly part of things. 'No' as in 'no, I don't want to give up'. McGuckets aren't quitters. That's one of his best traits (or his whole problem, depending on who you ask). The point is that he catches himself sinking into the mire of complacency and every time he does he tries to forcefully jerk himself awake again, like a horse trying in frustration to shake off a fly.
So his version of 'settling in' is pacing, which is probably driving everyone else nuts, but if he keeps his body moving then he can keep his mind moving easier. Right? It must be because it's cold. If he keeps moving he'll keep warm, and not feel so tired, and it all follows very logically.
The thing about this memory is that the people within it are not aware it is a memory, and so they are unable to notice that there is something that has changed, here. An entry of a person who does not belong.
The memory version of Qrow, for instance, assumes this is simply another civilian who followed them out of the train crash like the old woman had, and as such another responsibility as opposed to someone who can share the crushing weight of it with him. Someone who has fought in the metaphorical trenches of this unwinnable war and understands the despair of learning its truth.
None of this is verbalized, only to be expressed in a harsh sigh.
"Give it a rest already, wouldja?" he grumbles, taking a swig of something strong out of a hip flask, which he then uses to gesture irritably. "We've got a long ways left to go to Atlas, and you're Grimm bait if you get too tired to run."
The memory version of Qrow, for instance, assumes this is simply another civilian who followed them out of the train crash like the old woman had, and as such another responsibility as opposed to someone who can share the crushing weight of it with him. Someone who has fought in the metaphorical trenches of this unwinnable war and understands the despair of learning its truth.
None of this is verbalized, only to be expressed in a harsh sigh.
"Give it a rest already, wouldja?" he grumbles, taking a swig of something strong out of a hip flask, which he then uses to gesture irritably. "We've got a long ways left to go to Atlas, and you're Grimm bait if you get too tired to run."
That's a good question, actually. Why is he here? Dimly he's aware he isn't sure, but that's also not unusual for him. Lost time, strange surroundings, that's pretty much par the course. It helps that being magically inserted into this memory gives him just enough suspension of disbelief to not be standing there going 'who the fuck are you and where am I', but he does still turn to look at Qrow with a very disgruntled expression.
"I don't have a flask to warm me up." That isn't to say he wouldn't like one, but the fact remains that he doesn't have one. "And I don't want to just sit starin' at the wall until this snow lets up."
Part of him kind of does. That part of him he pushes down, because that's dumb and unhelpful, even if it sounds so inviting.
"I don't have a flask to warm me up." That isn't to say he wouldn't like one, but the fact remains that he doesn't have one. "And I don't want to just sit starin' at the wall until this snow lets up."
Part of him kind of does. That part of him he pushes down, because that's dumb and unhelpful, even if it sounds so inviting.
Qrow rolls his eyes at the comment about the flask, as though to suggest that said lack of alcohol is clearly the result of his own lack of planning. He is not generous enough to share, here.
"The fire's right over there, y'know," he drawls lazily, pointing very clearly within in his line of sight. "But if you've got a bug up your ass that bad, how 'bout you make yourself useful and go with the girls to find some food or more blankets? You can catch up to Ruby and the ice princess if you walk fast enough."
There is a beat, where he lifts up his flask again, and then very reluctantly waits a moment, as though his garden of fucks that he burned checking the area out for active threats still has one last blossom struggling not to wither.
"--If you lose sight of them for a second, come right back here. I'll kick your ass myself if you wind up messing around alone out there. Got it?"
There. Now he can get back to drinking.
"The fire's right over there, y'know," he drawls lazily, pointing very clearly within in his line of sight. "But if you've got a bug up your ass that bad, how 'bout you make yourself useful and go with the girls to find some food or more blankets? You can catch up to Ruby and the ice princess if you walk fast enough."
There is a beat, where he lifts up his flask again, and then very reluctantly waits a moment, as though his garden of fucks that he burned checking the area out for active threats still has one last blossom struggling not to wither.
"--If you lose sight of them for a second, come right back here. I'll kick your ass myself if you wind up messing around alone out there. Got it?"
There. Now he can get back to drinking.
Edited 2022-09-24 06:51 (UTC)
[ the tidal wave of feeling crashes onto him, unrelenting. alucard is intimately familiar with them, after all. felt the vice around his heart clench when he thinks of people long gone, of betrayals that still stung. of wounds that remain unhealed. exhausting, unrelenting, a biting cold that turns you numb.
he shakes his head a few times as he tries to move. don't stay still, don't let it overtake you. he's not the same. he's not. ]
he shakes his head a few times as he tries to move. don't stay still, don't let it overtake you. he's not the same. he's not. ]
"I'm a grown man, you know," he says, because that's the salient point here. The other point -- that he's not about to shove himself in front of the fire when there's an elderly woman and several young ladies who ought to get first dibs -- he figures should be fully understood. He's antsy, not an asshole.
"You try and kick any part of me and there'll be trouble."
It is not at all wise to mouth off to this guy, he's absolutely sure, but on the other hand the last thing Fiddleford McGucket likes is being talked down to or treated like he's incompetent. The fact that he probably would get his ass handed to him alone in a potentially-haunted town is not the point. It's the principle of the thing.
"You try and kick any part of me and there'll be trouble."
It is not at all wise to mouth off to this guy, he's absolutely sure, but on the other hand the last thing Fiddleford McGucket likes is being talked down to or treated like he's incompetent. The fact that he probably would get his ass handed to him alone in a potentially-haunted town is not the point. It's the principle of the thing.
Qrow raises an eyebrow at that latter part. It would be inaccurate to say he does this judgmentally, because his expression manages to surpass judgmental entirely into a brand new tier of condescension. This is at least partly because of the magic of warping this memory to accommodate the newcomer; to his perspective, this man has just escaped a train crash caused by Grimm, followed the nearest Huntsmen around as the likeliest source of survival, learned the real, horrible picture of the inevitable apocalypse that awaits the planet and is now stranded alongside them and the monster magnet they're carrying, and has decided to take this moment to mouth off about how tough he is.
"Ohh, he's a grown man," he says, in the tone one uses to say "that's nice, honey" to a small child, "I'm sure you're real tough and menacing, but it's actually our job to keep you safe, so maybe hold the posturing for someone who gives a rat's ass, alright?"
"Ohh, he's a grown man," he says, in the tone one uses to say "that's nice, honey" to a small child, "I'm sure you're real tough and menacing, but it's actually our job to keep you safe, so maybe hold the posturing for someone who gives a rat's ass, alright?"
The thing about being tired is that Akechi doesn't get to indulge in it very often. He lets it pull at him at first, slumped sullenly in one of the living room chairs while the rest of the party moves about. His mind keeps going back over what they saw upstairs. The dead bodies, the locked doors, the unnatural stillness, the lack of any sign of plague or poison gas leak or anything else that may have caused mass, seemingly simultaneous death.
He doesn't pay much mind to what the other do, but it does eventually occur to him that the others are moving about and attempting to make progress on their situation. While part of him bitterly reflects that such a thing is pointless he manages to shove himself up and out of his chair. It's the most bitterly resentful standing up motion of his life, but he manages it. He hasn't checked the basement yet. Maybe, miraculously, there'll be something useful in there.
But no, there's only a certain middle-aged someone sitting at the (surprisingly well-stocked) bar and getting wasted. Akechi stares for a moment, then heaves an annoyed sigh.
"Really?"
He doesn't pay much mind to what the other do, but it does eventually occur to him that the others are moving about and attempting to make progress on their situation. While part of him bitterly reflects that such a thing is pointless he manages to shove himself up and out of his chair. It's the most bitterly resentful standing up motion of his life, but he manages it. He hasn't checked the basement yet. Maybe, miraculously, there'll be something useful in there.
But no, there's only a certain middle-aged someone sitting at the (surprisingly well-stocked) bar and getting wasted. Akechi stares for a moment, then heaves an annoyed sigh.
"Really?"
oh also i guess blanket warning for lost time/not trusting one's own thoughts
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terribibble
2022-09-25 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
Listen, knowing about the horrible and inevitable apocalypse does not make him any less spicy. In fact the last time he found out about an apocalypse he started a whole cult about it, not that he remembers the finer details. At any rate right now that tone of voice is only making him exponentially spicier. This is how he's always kept going, frankly: be simply too petty to sit down and let himself be overcome. That doesn't always get him somewhere good but it sure gets him somewhere, doesn't it?
"It's not about posture, it's about basic respect. You coulda just left me by that train if you don't want to go through the hassle."
What train? he thinks dimly but it's fine, it's fine, it'll catch up to him what he means probably. That happens sometimes.
"Maybe I will go follow the girls if you're goin' to act like someone peed in your porridge."
"It's not about posture, it's about basic respect. You coulda just left me by that train if you don't want to go through the hassle."
What train? he thinks dimly but it's fine, it's fine, it'll catch up to him what he means probably. That happens sometimes.
"Maybe I will go follow the girls if you're goin' to act like someone peed in your porridge."
This version of Qrow does not recognize Akechi as foreign to this memory, but nor does he recognize him as someone he knows from Trench. Instead, he gets slotted in as one of Ruby's little friends who is now trapped in this bullshit situation with the rest of them. Stranded and abandoned in a snowstorm with a monster magnet and the knowledge of inevitable apocalypse, and now judging him for getting drunk, apparently.
He barely lifts his gaze, instead choosing to gesture with the drink itself.
"What? Not like we're going anywhere tonight."
He barely lifts his gaze, instead choosing to gesture with the drink itself.
"What? Not like we're going anywhere tonight."
Akechi has (in a move that will annoy him greatly later on) also slotted himself in as one of Ruby's companions. Technically speaking he shouldn't know Qrow that well in this circumstance, but even without any other considerations he's simply too tired to notice that inconsistency.
Honestly, he's tired enough that he kind of just wants to lay down and wait out the storm right here. Fortunately, Qrow's response annoys him just enough to keep him upright.
"Uh huh. And when there's an emergency you'll do what? Stumble towards it and hope it goes away?"
Honestly, he's tired enough that he kind of just wants to lay down and wait out the storm right here. Fortunately, Qrow's response annoys him just enough to keep him upright.
"Uh huh. And when there's an emergency you'll do what? Stumble towards it and hope it goes away?"
It'd be almost comical the nerve Fiddleford manages to strike without really even knowing what's going on or who he's talking to, if it weren't also ... just kind of sad. When the man says Qrow could've just left him by the train he looks for a moment as though he's been slapped in the face before his shoulders start to shake and it's unclear what's about to happen next, maybe even to him.
"Heh, maybe I should have. I mean, I've already wasted my whole damn life doing this, right? What's leaving one person to die when the whole planet's doomed?"
He buries his face in a hand, still shaking. He sounds like a man on a precipice of some kind, dangerously clinging to the edge by his fingernails.
"Do whatever the fuck you want."
"Heh, maybe I should have. I mean, I've already wasted my whole damn life doing this, right? What's leaving one person to die when the whole planet's doomed?"
He buries his face in a hand, still shaking. He sounds like a man on a precipice of some kind, dangerously clinging to the edge by his fingernails.
"Do whatever the fuck you want."
Ughhhhhhhh. This kid is one of the Annoying ones, he decides. Like that blond kid who decided to give him shit on the way to Mistral. Some knowitall brat who's seen real combat what, a handful of times, and thinks he's the expert?
Qrow grunts, pointedly taking! Another! Sip!
"I've been doing this longer than you've been alive, kid. I can handle myself."
Unfortunately for Qrow (ha), he does not realize how different this situation is from his usual depressive bullshit, or how far he's going to end up spiraling the longer he's here. F in chat.
Qrow grunts, pointedly taking! Another! Sip!
"I've been doing this longer than you've been alive, kid. I can handle myself."
Unfortunately for Qrow (ha), he does not realize how different this situation is from his usual depressive bullshit, or how far he's going to end up spiraling the longer he's here. F in chat.
You ever see a guy clearly clinging to the edge and oh so delicately stomp on his fingers?
"Oh, so it's all about how important your job is until someone calls you out on clearly not wantin' to do it, and then none of it matters."
Generally he would not be this mean with a near-stranger, but generally he has not spent several months in a blood-soaked knockoff-Lovecraft hellhole that has been slowly eating away at what little sanity he had to start out with. One of the things his corruption does first is make him far less charitable, more likely to pick fights, and he may not consciously remember at the moment that he's a squid but the effects don't simply go away because he forgot.
"Oh, so it's all about how important your job is until someone calls you out on clearly not wantin' to do it, and then none of it matters."
Generally he would not be this mean with a near-stranger, but generally he has not spent several months in a blood-soaked knockoff-Lovecraft hellhole that has been slowly eating away at what little sanity he had to start out with. One of the things his corruption does first is make him far less charitable, more likely to pick fights, and he may not consciously remember at the moment that he's a squid but the effects don't simply go away because he forgot.
You know how they talk about the straw that broke the camel's back? Fiddleford probably doesn't even think about the comment he so casually tossed at Qrow, but there is a very distinct moment where the air is still and then something in it just fucking snaps.
The shaking stops. Qrow goes still. And just casually walks over and socks Fiddleford right in the jaw.
(Oh, and he wears rings.)
"Do you ever fucking shut up, or are you so obsessed with the sound of your own voice that you never think for a single second that maybe you don't know what the fuck you're talking about?!"
It is, perhaps, for the best that the girls are long since gone looking for supplies at this point. Maria looks on from her own corner, sighs to herself, and keeps looking through the old journals on the bookshelves. They're free to keep on having this scene by themselves.
The shaking stops. Qrow goes still. And just casually walks over and socks Fiddleford right in the jaw.
(Oh, and he wears rings.)
"Do you ever fucking shut up, or are you so obsessed with the sound of your own voice that you never think for a single second that maybe you don't know what the fuck you're talking about?!"
It is, perhaps, for the best that the girls are long since gone looking for supplies at this point. Maria looks on from her own corner, sighs to herself, and keeps looking through the old journals on the bookshelves. They're free to keep on having this scene by themselves.
Doesn't think about it? Oh, no. He thinks about it. That's the thing about him. He doesn't say mean things on accident. That's Ford. When Fiddleford is mean it's because he knows precisely what he's doing. Ford is oblivious; Fiddleford is petty.
So it's not entirely a surprise when suddenly there is a fist hurtling toward what little jaw he has. It is enough of a surprise that he can't exactly scramble out of the way, though. He stumbles backward, glasses knocked askew, and has to put a hand out to brace himself against the nearest hard surface. That's gonna bloom into a real interesting bruise.
Now the smart thing would be to apologize for purposefully pinching a nerve. He does not do that. Instead he spits out a little bit of blood with the practiced aim of someone who's been chewing tobacco all his life and says, still looking down at the floor:
"I don't know, I'd say I've got a pretty good picture of you already. Not exactly coy about things."
It sure has painted a picture. And in the real world he is going to realize that perhaps that view was warped by own complete inability to be helpful, but in the moment? He's sure this guy is just a hypocritical asshole and that's his least favorite kind.
So it's not entirely a surprise when suddenly there is a fist hurtling toward what little jaw he has. It is enough of a surprise that he can't exactly scramble out of the way, though. He stumbles backward, glasses knocked askew, and has to put a hand out to brace himself against the nearest hard surface. That's gonna bloom into a real interesting bruise.
Now the smart thing would be to apologize for purposefully pinching a nerve. He does not do that. Instead he spits out a little bit of blood with the practiced aim of someone who's been chewing tobacco all his life and says, still looking down at the floor:
"I don't know, I'd say I've got a pretty good picture of you already. Not exactly coy about things."
It sure has painted a picture. And in the real world he is going to realize that perhaps that view was warped by own complete inability to be helpful, but in the moment? He's sure this guy is just a hypocritical asshole and that's his least favorite kind.
Just as before, with Oz, it doesn't make him feel better. He feels like shit, moreso because this is just some fucking guy who doesn't know anything. Who's only just learned of any existential threat to the planet at all.
(Summer would be disappointed in him. Summer, who was lost for nothing. Just one more faceless warrior for the mountain of sacrifices to a war that can never be won. Fuck. Fuck.)
"You don't know shit. You don't have the first clue. I mean, how could you, that was the point. 'We can't cause a panic', he always said." He lets out a bitter bark of a laugh. "That's what we were there for, to keep all this shit on the downlow, deal with Salem's people and her plans and monsters quietly, make sure average people like you never knew someone like her even existed so you could keep living your lives in peace."
Ironically, now, Qrow is the one who is starting to pace, agitated.
"Hell, you couldn't even imagine the half of what those kids have been through in the past couple months they've known."
(Summer would be disappointed in him. Summer, who was lost for nothing. Just one more faceless warrior for the mountain of sacrifices to a war that can never be won. Fuck. Fuck.)
"You don't know shit. You don't have the first clue. I mean, how could you, that was the point. 'We can't cause a panic', he always said." He lets out a bitter bark of a laugh. "That's what we were there for, to keep all this shit on the downlow, deal with Salem's people and her plans and monsters quietly, make sure average people like you never knew someone like her even existed so you could keep living your lives in peace."
Ironically, now, Qrow is the one who is starting to pace, agitated.
"Hell, you couldn't even imagine the half of what those kids have been through in the past couple months they've known."
Edited (makes this more of a personal attack for when fidds returns to reality) 2022-09-25 08:29 (UTC)
[The memory is not self-aware; Alucard is foreign to it, and so it bends its own logic to make his presence reasonable. A civilian who got caught in the train crash, and came to be stranded with them out of sheer bad luck, someone like Maria Calavera.
At this point in the night, any supplies there were to gather have been gathered; food and blankets and a cart to latch to Bumblebee and get them out of this frozen Nowhere faster. There's only waiting out the storm, now.
Alucard tries to keep himself in motion, and from his spot by the window where he's settled to keep watch for now, bottle of scotch in hand, he calls over--]
Get some sleep. Tomorrow'll be a pain in the ass otherwise.
At this point in the night, any supplies there were to gather have been gathered; food and blankets and a cart to latch to Bumblebee and get them out of this frozen Nowhere faster. There's only waiting out the storm, now.
Alucard tries to keep himself in motion, and from his spot by the window where he's settled to keep watch for now, bottle of scotch in hand, he calls over--]
Get some sleep. Tomorrow'll be a pain in the ass otherwise.
Qrow says, I've been doing this longer than you've been alive and Akechi's response is an incredibly unpleasant smile and a cheerful:
"Drinking? I can tell."
Akechi generally doesn't have anything against alcohol, but there's no denying that he's annoyed about it right now. He's not even sure why he's so invested in Qrow getting up and doing something. He thinks he might for just a second, but the thought slips away before he can pin it down. Probably because he's still incredibly tired.
Tired enough that he slides into one of the empty chairs at the bar, not right next to Qrow but not far enough away he has to life his voice at all to be heard.
"Does your job usually involve this much sitting around?"
"Drinking? I can tell."
Akechi generally doesn't have anything against alcohol, but there's no denying that he's annoyed about it right now. He's not even sure why he's so invested in Qrow getting up and doing something. He thinks he might for just a second, but the thought slips away before he can pin it down. Probably because he's still incredibly tired.
Tired enough that he slides into one of the empty chairs at the bar, not right next to Qrow but not far enough away he has to life his voice at all to be heard.
"Does your job usually involve this much sitting around?"
This kid is so rude. The rudest. He refuses to even respond to that, throwing back the last of the drink and pouring himself another. He doesn't care what this kid thinks of him. He just has to get through this night and get him and the others to Atlas and then he can be miserable in peace.
"Not usually," he grumbles back, before something strikes his mind as odd about the question, and he properly looks at Akechi for the first time.
"...Aren't you one of the Beacon kids?"
Said in the tone of, please tell me you're one of the Beacon kids. This is so much responsibility already without having aNOTHER defenseless civilian that's also a kid to watch out for. This is the worst.
"Not usually," he grumbles back, before something strikes his mind as odd about the question, and he properly looks at Akechi for the first time.
"...Aren't you one of the Beacon kids?"
Said in the tone of, please tell me you're one of the Beacon kids. This is so much responsibility already without having aNOTHER defenseless civilian that's also a kid to watch out for. This is the worst.
[ his fingers itch. his throat feels parched. all hallmarks to the time he drank himself during his depression. his conscious mind tries to rail against it, to fight but it is a fog that numbs his core. who was he talking to? where were they? perhaps the details will steady him. ]
[He lifts his head slowly toward the guy who wasn't asleep after all, apparently, grunts, and takes another drink first.]
Join the club. [He snorts, darkly.] Nobody's going anywhere 'til the blizzard lets up, though. We'll freeze to death inside an hour.
Join the club. [He snorts, darkly.] Nobody's going anywhere 'til the blizzard lets up, though. We'll freeze to death inside an hour.
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