eddie kaspbrak. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
klussy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
deercountry2021-09-15 10:56 pm
klussy) wrote in deercountry2021-09-15 10:56 pm
Entry tags:
It's getting dark and it's all too quiet
Who: Eddie and Ryan
What: Learning about their blood powers in a VERY emotional way
When: Sometime in September/sort of around sunset, a little after.
Where: The Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: Heavy descriptions of poison-like abilities, telepathy, mind-sharing, some vague blood drinking, emotional breakdowns, lowkey existensial crisis mode, panic attacks, trauma/ptsd.
(As the days wore on, Eddie became more and more absent-minded. It was difficult to feel anything, negative or positive, and he felt like he was feeding lines to people rather than having any real connection. Even with Richie, he felt oddly mechanical and as though he was five feet above his own body. He could figure the abstract concept of emotion and understand what he should be displaying, what he should be feeling, but he just wasn't feeling any of them.
Not sorrow. Not joy. Not amusement. Not excitement. Not fear. Nothing.
At first, it had felt peaceful. His mind was usually a clustered parade of noise and panic and emotions that would whiplash him on a regular basis. He hadn't even touched a single Xanax since he arrived here simply because he wasn't panicking. He didn't feel anxious. It had been really nice and he had thought was I cured?
Except if he was "cured" then he was left with almost nothing at all.
And that was somehow worse.
Even without emotions, he knew he didn't want this. It began to crack open a deeper void in him. He wandered out to the ocean because there was some instinctual pull, but not just because he was born from it. But because something within it called to him. Something about the shoreline felt safe. He sat down where the water washed over his feet. He had taken his shoes off, set them aside, and sank Taylor the Turtle in the sand next to him, desperately hoping even one of her songs might muster a stronger emotion in him.
He watched the waves, contemplating, knowing that what he was thinking about doing could worsen it. But he had gone through this before a little over a year ago now. He had a small jar of warmblood in his hand. He rotated it carefully in his palm, thinking, and he didn't know how long he sat on that beach staring at the blood. But eventually, he tipped back and downed the whole thing in a few eager gulps. The moment he tasted it, he could feel it working.
Back to this.
Only it wasn't like before. Before, he needed it to physically live. This? Not so much. He could feel his head clearing almost within moments. Once he's finished, he dropped the bottle aside and just crossed his arms over his knees, watching the ocean. His skin slowly diminished in its sickly green to his more healthy, natural brown, and his teeth became blunter. He started to feel threads of actual emotion sliding through him, and he felt vicious relief. He felt that burst of love and relief knowing that Richie was here, but then a sharp pang of hurt that Richie had to go through Eddie forgetting him.
The emotions were starting to mount, but there was nothing Eddie could really even do. His chest started to flutter, his lungs shrinking down, and all he could think was a roaring panic of I need my inhaler, ma, I'm having an asthma attack, oh God, it's been years since I've had an asthma attack. The jointed memories weren't doing him any favor and he sucks in a deep gasp and immediately begins to cry. Loudly.
The most unusual thing, however, were the thin, wispy black spores that were sliding down his arms, pooling up, and floating up into the air around him. His grey eyes became bright, shining like reflective coins in the evening. The pressure of the air around him was heavy, dense, like a humid summer day, thick to walk through. He doesn't really hear anything as the panic begins to rise because good lord, he had missed a lot of reasonable panic attacks since arriving in Trench.)
What: Learning about their blood powers in a VERY emotional way
When: Sometime in September/sort of around sunset, a little after.
Where: The Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: Heavy descriptions of poison-like abilities, telepathy, mind-sharing, some vague blood drinking, emotional breakdowns, lowkey existensial crisis mode, panic attacks, trauma/ptsd.
(As the days wore on, Eddie became more and more absent-minded. It was difficult to feel anything, negative or positive, and he felt like he was feeding lines to people rather than having any real connection. Even with Richie, he felt oddly mechanical and as though he was five feet above his own body. He could figure the abstract concept of emotion and understand what he should be displaying, what he should be feeling, but he just wasn't feeling any of them.
Not sorrow. Not joy. Not amusement. Not excitement. Not fear. Nothing.
At first, it had felt peaceful. His mind was usually a clustered parade of noise and panic and emotions that would whiplash him on a regular basis. He hadn't even touched a single Xanax since he arrived here simply because he wasn't panicking. He didn't feel anxious. It had been really nice and he had thought was I cured?
Except if he was "cured" then he was left with almost nothing at all.
And that was somehow worse.
Even without emotions, he knew he didn't want this. It began to crack open a deeper void in him. He wandered out to the ocean because there was some instinctual pull, but not just because he was born from it. But because something within it called to him. Something about the shoreline felt safe. He sat down where the water washed over his feet. He had taken his shoes off, set them aside, and sank Taylor the Turtle in the sand next to him, desperately hoping even one of her songs might muster a stronger emotion in him.
He watched the waves, contemplating, knowing that what he was thinking about doing could worsen it. But he had gone through this before a little over a year ago now. He had a small jar of warmblood in his hand. He rotated it carefully in his palm, thinking, and he didn't know how long he sat on that beach staring at the blood. But eventually, he tipped back and downed the whole thing in a few eager gulps. The moment he tasted it, he could feel it working.
Back to this.
Only it wasn't like before. Before, he needed it to physically live. This? Not so much. He could feel his head clearing almost within moments. Once he's finished, he dropped the bottle aside and just crossed his arms over his knees, watching the ocean. His skin slowly diminished in its sickly green to his more healthy, natural brown, and his teeth became blunter. He started to feel threads of actual emotion sliding through him, and he felt vicious relief. He felt that burst of love and relief knowing that Richie was here, but then a sharp pang of hurt that Richie had to go through Eddie forgetting him.
The emotions were starting to mount, but there was nothing Eddie could really even do. His chest started to flutter, his lungs shrinking down, and all he could think was a roaring panic of I need my inhaler, ma, I'm having an asthma attack, oh God, it's been years since I've had an asthma attack. The jointed memories weren't doing him any favor and he sucks in a deep gasp and immediately begins to cry. Loudly.
The most unusual thing, however, were the thin, wispy black spores that were sliding down his arms, pooling up, and floating up into the air around him. His grey eyes became bright, shining like reflective coins in the evening. The pressure of the air around him was heavy, dense, like a humid summer day, thick to walk through. He doesn't really hear anything as the panic begins to rise because good lord, he had missed a lot of reasonable panic attacks since arriving in Trench.)
no subject
He nearly forgot about the spores himself, and now that his eyes are open he watches them for a moment. They really are evaporating slowly before their eyes, and Ryan finds he doesn't have many answers for Eddie. He shakes his head.]
No, I'm good. Really. Everything was weird and heavy, but it didn't hurt.
[Those little spores sure look like they should be hurting him though. There's just something about them that looks toxic, like breathing in mold. There's no way he didn't breathe in some of it, but...he's okay, against all odds.]
Heh. I guess you did warn me. You totally don't have to be sorry though. I...
[Ryan hesitates, struggling for the words he wants.]
...I didn't know that was going to happen? I probably should've figured with all the blood stuff, but. I didn't. So, sorry about...you know. All that.
["All that" is apparently his attempt to describe every thing he accidentally shoved into Eddie's head before he started figuring out how to do it on purpose. Eddie didn't need like any of that on top of what he was already going through.
He offers up a smile anyway though, spinning it carefully into something lighter. The apology felt necessary, but he doesn't linger on it long.]
One hell of a way to get to know someone though!
no subject
Good. Cool. Let me know if that uh - changes.
(The calmer he became, the less spores. He realized that and tried hard to focus, to do something. He had never been a master of his own emotions though, but it was easier with a rooted presence like Ryan. He half doesn't want the touch to end, but he lets it for Ryan's own sake.)
No, man. No apologies necessary. You uh didn't even have to help me just now.
(He could have just walked away. Pretended like he didn't hear Eddie. People had before. It was the Derry way, practically. He curls his arms around his knees, tugging them towards his chest. He looked more his age, more human than when he first met Ryan. Without the weird green skin and weird teeth. Now that the spores were vanishing, his skin was becoming a more natural shade.)
Jeeesus. (He blushes hotly, groaning lowly.)
Yeah. That's...the fucking Deerington way, all right. We're not there anymore but that was so fucking classic of the bullshit we'd go through. If you think you've got a secret you might as well say goodbye to it goddamn now. Nothing's personal in this kind of place.
(He looks over at Ryan, feeling tentatively shy. Mostly because...Well.)
Um. Sorry you had to see...more personal stuff. That's probably like, super awkward.
no subject
[If he hadn't known Eddie he might have given him privacy, but the fact that it was a friend suffering was reason enough for him to butt in.
Hearing that this sort of thing is common is...difficult. It's not that he considers himself to have big terrible secrets, not really. There are things he's guilty about though, and parts of his life that were extremely difficult. Things that he would rather just gloss over and bury so he never has to think about them again.
The thought of this strange blood magic pulling that out of him by force ties a knot in his throat.]
You saw some of mine too, so if I don't have to be sorry then neither do you. We'll just...both be awkward? It's cool. Don't worry about it.
[He knows from experience with Min that it won't necessarily make him stop worrying about it, but sometimes it helps a little to say it and assert that it's not something he's worrying about.]
Actually, you're looking a little better too. Like, not so green around the edges? I have no idea what happened, but something happened there.
[Is it good? Bad? Who knows in this world! Ryan doesn't roll up his sleeves, but he holds out his hand for Eddie to compare to, if that might help. His own skin is a gentle tan, and when he turns his hand palm-side up it reveals that his most visible veins are now a faint white color, as though someone drew them on in white ink.]
no subject
(Only...)
Thank you though. For helping.
(His voice barely makes a sound over the waves of the ocean, but it's evident he means it. He still felt like his edges were completely frayed, and like he might go off into another hysterical tangent, but for now, things were steady. He turns his eyes to the ocean, watching the way the moon caught off the edges and made it look like the water was filled with copper.
He felt better.
He felt a lot better.)
I drank some blood. (He might as well admit it. The emptied jar was next to him, half-buried in the sand by now, but it's clear enough at a glance what had been in it moments before.)
I've been something like this before. Only the first time I was a vampire, I needed it to live. This time, I guess I need it to...
(Feel. He's not sure if that's better or worse. Eddie looks back over at Ryan, and now that he wasn't having the world's biggest, loudest panic attack, he actually realizes that Ryan was looking weird himself. His eyes widen marginally and he shifts around in the sand to face Ryan more head-on.)
Dude.
(He grabs Ryan's hand instinctively, cradling it gently in his own, sliding a thumb into the dip of Ryan's palm.)
This blood shit is complex. Wow. I take it you don't normally glow from the inside out?
no subject
[After all, it seems like Eddie really needed it. He has no regrets here.
He raises an eyebrow as Eddie starts telling his story. The look on Ryan's face is a very specific one - one that isn't exactly judging but still says very clearly "how the hell is someone a vampire more than once?". Still, he just listens and lets Eddie say what he wants to say.
When Eddie takes his palm though, Ryan half-expects something to happen - as though he'll plague Eddie's brain with more memories, or project his thoughts, or whatever else his powers might do. But nothing does, at least for now.]
--oh. Right, yeah. Not usually! It's been happening when I'm outside at night for some reason. Also I thiiiiink I might be nocturnal now? Maybe?
[He shrugs, like this is a normal development. It feels like late morning for him even though it's clearly dusk.]
It looks super weird though...like, not-human weird. We kinda knew that already with the blood stuff, but. I dunno, it's different looking at it on my arms?