deercountry | 003: Seems to me quite clear, now — now that you are here

Entry tags:

003: Seems to me quite clear, now — now that you are here — how easily I could begin again

Who: Break + various
What: Catchall log; closed starters, event overflows, etc. No open prompts.
When: January through February, perhaps into March
Where: Various

Content Warnings: Use of the heartstrings prompt from the January TDM (injury, body horror, burning, melting), and one bond pact (blood ceremony, bodily ceremony, telepathic/empathetic connections). One Mother's Mercy thread (intense guilt and shame, talk of grieving your own death, forced confession), and one using the really evil magic chocolate where you cough up an organ. Threads will be marked accordingly and further warnings added here as they come up.

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Alice, he says, and thankfully Ange knows why. Break told her before, after all. About the Abyss and the golden lights in it. About how Alice - the white one, Ange assumes, with how different the two Alices seem to act - was stuck there. It doesn't confirm that he thought he was stuck in the Abyss a moment ago, when he looked so pained by a memory, but of course the golden lights of the butterflies would make him think of that place before anything else then.

Thankfully he seems to keep thinking, arriving at a conclusion Ange was hoping for. If he realises that she's here, then she can help him.

"That's right," she slowly says. "I'm here."

She breathes in and then slowly lets go of her hold on Baltus, instead getting up to move a little closer to where Break is sitting. She makes sure to squat down again once she's closer, like she's still trying to make herself seem as little of a threat as possible in this moment.

(And honestly, part of the moving closer is that she's still not sure whether or not he can actually see her properly, especially from further away. It's now that she's realising that she's going to have to learn the little tells of whether he's blinded or not in any given moment, because knowing Break, he sure as heck won't tell her himself so she can knock him over the head for trying to deal with it by himself in the first place.)

"We're here together."

Wary of reminding Break again of the Cheshire Cat, Baltus hangs back, letting Ange take the lead. Though he's ready to intervene if Break seems to slip again, the omen does not believe that will be the case. Break will be shaky for a day or three, no doubt, but once he's grounded in reality again, it's generally just a matter of nerves and nightmares.

Break prefers reality, so now that he's on the way back, it's just a matter of leading him home.

The man himself watches her, following her with his eye as she moves. Today, he can see, though that might change when the full awareness of what's happening in front of Ange hits him. He continues to shelter the butterfly on his hand, protective. But though his shoulders are visibly stiff, the suspicion is slowly draining out of him. He seems less defensive now, and more simply disoriented.

"'Here' is --"

A much more telling sign that he's accepting Ange is that he takes his eye away from her in favor of looking around at the myriad butterflies she's conjured for him. There's an answer in these and he knows it. But something is keeping him from getting to it. He can see, but it's as though his "vision" is thoroughly clouded, and it's horribly frustrating to be certain something is directly in front of him and to be unable to understand it all the same.

"...something pulled me. But, this time, I wasn't..."

"It's the catacombs," Ange explains, still trying to make her tone seem as calm as possible, her hands carefully cradled on her lap, not making any unexpected movement. Usually all of that would be pretty easy, considering how used she is to putting up an uncaring front in any situation in order to protect her own heart, but it's a little harder when she's both worried about Break and also still not entirely recovered from the feelings that have been haunting her for the past weeks.

Maybe it's even harder because of the combination of those two things. Because Break was one of the people who tried so hard to make her feel better in his own way. Doesn't that mean that it's her turn to protect him in turn now? To try and soothe his heart, when he is the one overcome by memories of the past?

Granted, she's not entirely sure if he's been here before. Probably not, given his reaction. But maybe he's at least heard about this place from other people in Trench, especially this late into the month. Ange herself has already been dragged down here before, after all.

"Underneath Trench."

She pauses for a moment, like she's giving him the space to remember that name. To see if it reignites something in his brain, all the while still giving him a bit of physical space too, not coming closer than she already had a moment ago.

"Some Pthumerian must have dragged us here," Ange says, laying out the scenario. Trying to make it as clear as possible, just to show him that it's not the same as whichever memory from home he must have been reminded of by this ordeal.

Indeed and truly, Ange is saying words.

"Trench," Break mutters, this being the one he's latched onto. The overwhelming memory of the broken toybox, still trying to intrude on the butterflies, is joined by images of a dark city and an equally dark ocean, moonlight scattered across it in shattered pieces. The memory of that makes him shudder visibly, as it's the sea that features far more prominently in his nightmares these days. But although it's decidedly unpleasant, it also brings him another step closer to when he actually is, and untangles his thoughts just a little more.

"That's right. In this place, the Abyss is no longer..."

Unfortunately, as he starts to settle down and remember things properly, the realization that he forgot in the first place starts to seep in. Still without understanding completely, his thin shoulders hunch up.

"...ah. It's Trench nonsense."

If the situation were any less serious, Ange might actually have laughed about those last words he's using - or at least have looked amused about it. There's just something so typical about the sheer experience of living in Trench that makes it so recognizable for the first words to come out of Break's mouth to be Trench nonsense.

It's always Trench nonsense, indeed.

But Ange is much too worried about the other in this moment to look amused in the first place. It's a thought that can be saved for later, when she's sure that she's managed to guide Break out of the other end of this.

Instead she just hums in acknowledgement and agreement of what he's saying. If he can remember Trench nonsense, then he's definitely getting closer.

"Did you.. think this was the Abyss..?"

He's mentioned that place before, after all, even if it might be something entirely otherworldly to Ange. Something she wouldn't even be able to properly picture.

"Something pulled me," Break mutters defensively. "And that damned Cheshire Cat, I --"

Reminded of that, he stops, glancing around amidst the butterflies in the hopes of finding the source of that thought. But it's just him and Red Alice and the dog there together in the golden glow, Baltus's shadowy darkness a stark hole against the light, all of his many pointy teeth politely put away. His omen watches with unending patience as Break shifts more puzzle pieces around in his head, puts a little more of the real picture into place, and realizes at last what must have happened.

Break crumples, a little. His shoulders fall again in defeat.

"Oh, Baltus. I tried to strike you, didn't I?"

The omen is on his feet immediately, and his movements are slow and deliberate as he slinks over. When Break doesn't startle, he curls himself at his person's side, leaning up on him for pettings the same way he did with Ange when she was hurting so badly some while ago. Break is the reason Baltus treats others this way. Touch is immediate and grounding, and one can take comfort in just-a-dog even when one can't always open up to another person.

You did, he agrees, "speaking" aloud for Ange's benefit. Even so, I am always here.

As Break leans down to press his forehead against his omen's, mumbling apologies, Baltus's tail thumps gently against the catacomb floor.

The girl watches the exchange between the two. Glad that Break slowly seems to be returning to the same level of reality as they're on, and glad for the fact that Baltus is always here to help comfort the man. Sure, it's in Baltus' nature as an omen, but it's still something Ange can feel glad for.

Deciding that they probably need a moment of comfort to themselves like that without her awkwardly watching them, she instead closes her eyes, trying to extend her senses towards the many butterflies floating around them. Some of them have spread further out, after all, and Ange is trying to see through them to the hallways beyond the spot in the catacombs they're currently in. Making sure that nothing is heading their way.

Nothing dangerous, but not just some random person either, considering she can't imagine Break would very much like a whole lot of people to see him like this. Thankfully it seems that the coast is clear for now. Which is a relief, because Ange would rather not try and juggle dealing with some danger and keeping an eye on Break at the same time.

.. though the relief isn't the only thing that comes to mind here. Ange realises that it's not just protectiveness that's making her do this.

She's also running away a little, right? Because she feels like doing anything else would be interfering. How else would a girl who has constantly been pushed out by the world feel? Of course she's worried that Break wouldn't want comfort from her at a moment like this. It's so much better to leave it to Baltus.

It's cowardice, though. Ange knows that too. It's just an irrational fear of rejection and abandonment, the same one that still haunts her after all these years. But she tries to think of the small lamp he gifted her, the one that has been lit in her room nearly constantly for the past while as she found herself miserably unable to take even a single step outside of that bed, simply staring at the projections it cast on the walls of her and Ruby's room. No matter how thrown off Break may be by this entire experience, how could he reject her help when he called her his favourite stepchild..?

The thoughts make her eyes feel strangely wet, but Ange furiously blinks any and all of that water away as she opens her eyes again. This is so not the time to get lost in worries or fears. Break needs all the help he can get in this moment, and she's going to give it, and she's not going to be dumb or scared about it, dangit--

"There's nothing dangerous around," Ange slowly speaks up. "The presence that pulled us here isn't present either."

Not as far as Ange can sense, at least.

"And.. you're not alone."

Was Break alone in the Abyss when he was dragged there in the memory that made him think of this moment? Ange knows he's mentioned the lighter Alice in connection to the Abyss before, but judging by his reaction now, he didn't just go on fun visits to see her there. And whoever that Cheshire Cat is, Break doesn't exactly seem fond of his company either.

Regardless, it can't hurt to know that he's not alone right now, Ange thinks. He shouldn't be alone.

If he lets her, she will grab a hold of his hand with its familiar callouses.

"Take your time."

The notion that the thing that pulled him -- them? -- through the whatever-it-was to the wherever-this-is has gone for now seems to be the last thing Break needs to really settle down. He is still thinking far more slowly than usual, still disoriented, thoughts muddled. But, he is at least satisfied that he isn't where he thought he was, and that he's safe so long as he's surrounded by the butterflies. His link to his omen, the clearest thing in his mind now that he's paying attention to it again, emphasizes that feeling of safety. Baltus isn't the same as Shelly Rainsworth by a long shot, but the warm, eternal serenity in him is similar enough to recall that feeling of true, ultimate comfort.

So is the hand he finds taking hold of his own. Shelly had done that a lot, too, and it had always struck him, that she knew exactly what he was and saw no reason to be afraid of him at all. That she'd walk into rooms right in time to see him knock Reim over, badly startled by the boy's noisiness, and still see him as someone worth reaching out to. Oblivious to Ange's current inner struggles, he does wrap his hand around hers, grateful for the contact.

Before, his hand was strong, despite the emotional upheavals they'd just put themselves through during their difficult conversation. Now, it's shaking a little, almost imperceptible.

"...'s been a long time," he mutters at length, when the time she offers him drags on and starts to feel too awkward in its silence. It is increasingly embarrassing to have had someone witness this, and it's always astronomically worse when it's one of the kids seeing him so low. "Since...to be so shaken as all this..."

There's a relief in the fact that he lets her hold his hand - and a hope, too, because Ange wants to fiercely believe that it's got to at least be doing something for him here. After all, what would have happened if he had been dragged down here into these catacombs all by himself, when it seems to remind him so violently of something awful that happened to him?

.. Ange doesn't even want to consider it. Even though it's not exactly easy for her either to sudden be thrown right out of what has been her safe comfort zone to mourn in for weeks, she has always found herself relatively flourishing in situations like these. If she has to take care of someone else, it's easier to shove her own problems and hurt on the back burner so she can be there for them. And she wants to be here right now for Break, just like he was there for her when Sayo had driven the equivalent of a dagger straight into her heart.

"Don't worry. This will absolutely stay between us." She doubts she had to tell him that. Break would know as much under regular circumstances, considering how much the two of them have - not always voluntarily - shared with each other over time already. But with Break still slowly recovering, these little reminders might help somehow. "Still.. You must have remembered something truly awful."

After all, she has never seen the man like this before. It feels so.. extreme. It's enough to make even Ange pause for a moment after she says those words and considers this.

"I think I might have to start considering beating up your world for letting you go through so much awful stuff." It's an attempt at both sympathy and a joke. A weak one, considering both the mood and the fact that Ange isn't fully herself either, but an attempt all the same. "And then this world after, for reminding you of it."

Weak though it may be, it does at least get a snort out of him, which morphs halfway through into a helpless chuckle. He squeezes her hand in appreciation, though when he lifts his head out of Baltus's fur enough to look at her, his half-hidden smile is bitter.

"That one was my own fault," he says flatly, aiming for his usual snide drawl and failing. "I was a very stupid young man."

With this pronouncement, he drops his face into his omen again, though he still doesn't let go of Ange's hand. Being given the opportunity to insult himself does seem to have made him even more coherent, though, and he attempts a horrid joke of his own, muffled in dog fur.

"To be protected by my kids...it makes me feel so warm I can't stand it. Such a gross feeling."

Baltus rolls his eyes, which is a marvel for an animal which does not actually possess pupils.

"Yes, yes," Ange slowly says. It has the tone of an overworked daycare worker dealing with an especially surly kid who's throwing a fit over nothing. The hand holding and the way Break is hiding himself against his omen probably only enhance the effect. "I'm sure it must be very difficult to have this entire group of kids who want to look after you and make sure you're happy."

Granted, the reason why it feels a little bit easier to joke like that now is that Break has entered the stage of self-derision. And with how much experience Ange has in this department, she knows that's exactly the sort of thing you do when a situation starts to feel a little bit more bearable. When you've dragged enough of your mind back together again.

Besides, she knows that any of the others would have done the same she has in this situation. It's why she's so confident in her joke. She knows that Break's own kids from his world would surely have harassed him and fussed over him - depending on the specific kid, really - if they found him like this. And Ange is even more sure of the fact that Ruby and Oscar wouldn't have left him alone either. If anything, they would have been increasingly more sappy about it than Ange herself, probably. Those two are just way too much of a bunch of goody-two-shoes. (It's why she likes them.)

"What else did you expect when you started being all nice to us? Now it's our official duty to make sure that you're not left by yourself during a dumb Pthumerian-induced experience." There, she's found a loophole. As long as she claims things like we or us, it feels so much easier to say these things than if she would have said I or me, even though that claim by itself would have been just as true. It's easier to hide her heart behind a Ruby-shaped shield.

Still bowed beneath the weight of his ordeal, Break doesn't have a clever answer for her, no further poetry he can make out of his urge to grumble. Baltus, stalwart and helpful as always, chooses this moment to provide further assistance.

Ruby told him last month she would protect him from loneliness and he shriveled up like a dead bug, the omen announces, confirming Ange's thoughts on the matter. His tail thumps happily against the stone floor.

Break sits up enough to give Baltus a look that is probably meant to be a stink-eye, and is instead simply an expression of pathetic betrayal.

-- and then, finally he rallies, a sputter turning into a proper laugh as the absurdity of all this hits him. Poor Ange is sitting here so patiently, talking to a grown man twice her age with her hand gentle on his own because he was so frightened by an old memory he couldn't think straight. The representation of his own soul is a lanky noodle dog whose existence looks even more hilarious against the backdrop of golden butterflies. Butterflies that Ange has summoned to comfort him the same way he pulled a lollipop out of his sleeve before in an attempt to comfort her, and Ange's magic trick makes his own look so silly and amateurish. This whole conversation is like a much kinder mirror of one of his last talks with Sharon, wherein she berated him for being awful and immature, and for all that he feels intensely pathetic he wasn't actually lying a moment ago. It really does feel warm, to have kids coming for him like this no matter where he ends up.

He squeezes her hand again before he lets go, leaning back so he can scrub at his face.

"It can't be helped. This is just what I am now," he gripes, his voice a little stronger even as it's muffled behind his hands. "Well, really, it's all Qrow's fault in the end."

Gilbert remains inconveniently absent, but in this moment pinning the blame unfairly on his new neurotic blackbird will do.

Nothing about this situation surprises her. Not Baltus' sudden yet inevitable betrayal. Not what the omen is saying either - it's exactly the sort of thing Ruby would do, and it's exactly why Ange adores that girl to infinite lengths. Of course she'd be relentlessly harassing Break like that. At least Ange holds back a little bit sometimes to not make things too overwhelming to someone who seems to deal as badly with an excess sappy positive moments as Ange herself does, but she knows that Ruby is just a bulldozer that keeps on going when it comes to that.

Even the way Break starts to whine as he holds his face isn't too much of a surprise.

But even though none of it is surprising, Ange feels a different feeling bloom inside of her as she witnesses all of this. This situation is amusing, for one, but even beyond that.. something about it does feel warm, even to her. At least Deerington and Trench have given her one thing, and that's the experience of caring for other people and being cared for in return. And even though this particular emotion was born out of something awful like Break reliving an awful memory by having something not too great happen to him.. it's still something he can laugh about, and then whine like a toddler.

And it makes Ange laugh too. Softly, at first, but then the laugh rises in volume. It's so giddy and genuine that she has to hold her now freed hand a small distance in front of her mouth so she doesn't feel totally ridiculous as the laugh escapes her. It feels weird, since it's the first time she's laughed since Sayo's confession, but not in a bad way.

"It's okay," Ange says, as she finally seems to find some words mid-laugh over here. "I like it too."

Yes, that's a too. She knows how you really feel despite the griping, Break!!

And it's not like any word of that is a lie. It feels nice, having Break as a new extension of their little family. It feels weirdly natural.

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003: Seems to me quite clear, now — now that you are here — how easily I could begin again

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1/2

2/3 I lied

3/3

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