bluescreenwhitedragon | Imeeji: IC Continuations

[He stops for a moment, taking sharp, deep breaths, trying to calm the fuck down and pull himself together.

He looks at Intensity... swallows, then looks away. His heart is pounding.

Gods dammit, he feels like he's about to cry already. This is so fucking stupid. He's so mad about all of this -- not at Intensity, just about the situation. The game. Having this reaction to fucking plants.

He swallows again, and takes a deep breath. Steels himself. Looks Intensity in the eyes.]

Yeah.

[He sets his jaw and starts walking again, heading into the park with the biggest air of confidence he can muster.]

[If Intensity notices the reactions, it doesn't show on his face. Just a slight nod of his head when Cobalt acknowledges him.

And keeping one hand in the crook of Cobalt's elbow, he walks alongside him - a little off the path himself (when they use it), so Cobalt can be equidistant from the trees on both sides.]

[His gaze is fixed on the path. He's white as a sheet and covered in a cold sweat, keeping his breathing deliberately even in an effort to keep the panic from creeping back in.

Unfortunately, walking around under the trees isn't doing anything for his goal, so he'll have to do something else.

When they get to a lawn area with a couple scattered trees, he pauses for a moment, considering it... then sets his jaw and starts heading over toward one.]

[Watches him approach, though he removes his hand so Cobalt can so whatever he needs to do.

He crosses his arms and waits just a couple steps behind]

[Not looking up at the branches, he approaches the tree, hesitates, and puts one shaking hand on the trunk.

Nothing.

He kneels, squeezes his eyes shut, and lowers himself to the ground to lay on his back under it.

Nothing.

It takes him a few moments, just laying there and breathing, before he finally opens his eyes.

Intensity gets a hit of dopamine.

Cobalt rolls onto his side with a hand clapped over his mouth and starts coughing violently.]

[Intensity is at his side at an instant with a hand on his back.]

Hey...

[he's laying on his side with both hands over his eyes now, taking deep, rasping breaths and shaking all over. He doesn't flinch away from the contact this time, though.]

ThIs iS So StUpId...

[he sounds. pretty mad.

He didn't throw up this time, though. So he's got that going for him.]

Yes. Well.

[How does one offer comfort to a trauma if the coping mechanism is not denial?

We just don't know]

Everything about an idol Hell is stupid.

So you're not wrong.

[The combination of barely-contained panic, frustration, gratitude, shame, and the bright rush of wonderful, excellent game feelings on top of everything is frankly a little overwhelming. He swallows, and it feels tight... and despite his best efforts not to cry, his mouth twists into a sharp, wobbling frown and he draws in on himself.

It's pretty contained, all things considered. His eyes are still hidden behind his hands and there's nothing much to see. The only indication is a couple deep, hitching breaths, and the way his shoulders shake... and then it's gone. Blink and you'd miss it.

He sniffs and wipes his face off, a little forcefully, like he's frustrated. But he sighs and gets to his feet.

He still looks stressed out, but mostly he just looks exhausted. When he speaks, his voice is rough.]

Okay. We got the points. Let's get out of here.

[Cobalt, please.

Perhaps you should have chosen a better trauma partner because 75% of these cues are just gonna go straight over his head.

All he knows is that something is wrong.]

You wouldn't be here if it was just the points you were looking after.

[I dunno, Intensity not noticing seems like the ideal situation, honestly? We don't need to unpack ALL of this.

He starts slowly leading the way back to the game tower, looking back to make sure Intensity is following.]

Yeah.

[He rubs his eye]

I've been working on this for a while. I know it's hard to tell, but this is still better than before.

Check it out: this is the first time I've managed to do that without Cloud Nine, and I didn't even barf. Normally I do. Nearly every time.

[I mean, he did cry, but,]

[He is following, less closely since it's seems they are heading back out of the park]

And this applies to all plants?

[they are, indeed. fuck this shit]

Just ones with forking branches, these days. Flowers are okay. Bushes are thin ice.

Maybe if you pruned the bushes into art pieces, they'd be less offensive.

Also probably on brand for pep.

Hah! Generous of you to believe I have any artistic ability whatsoever.

Ideally I'll get to the point where this all just gets easier to manage. I've been practicing on my own, and I even got a friend on Bad End to change the memory so I can't recall it as well.

Weirdly, talking about it helps a lot, too. So, thanks for listening. Even though I know it's probably uncomfortable to have to hear about it.

...But at least you got a point for it, right?

[There is a long pause at that, where it looks like Intensity is considering and discarding multiple responses.]

. . .

Is that how you're justifying this?

Because you can help people win the producers' game of the week? ... You realize the chances of a wider audience viewing this rises when you do this kind of shit in a game.

Please don't misunderstand — I'm not doing this for anyone's sake but mine. And I don't mean winning the game, either.

They can't use this to hurt me if it stops hurting.

[Back at the game tower now — he's much faster coming back than going out in the first place, how can that be.]

I don't suppose you get points for drinking with someone, do you?

Then don't misunderstand me.

I would have done this without the game points.

[he pulls up short, halfway through opening the door of the tower.]

Yeah.

I know.

Then no.

I don't have a drinking objective. But if you're amendable to it regardless...

[Holding the door open for him]

What are you in the mood for?

Nothing that tastes like sugar water.

[So. You know, the usual]

[Pacing directly over to the alcohol table this game has so graciously provided, he starts picking through bottles until he produces the strongest whiskey he can find. He pours a generous amount into some plastic cups and offers one to Intensity.]

For you.

[Turns his nose up at the plastic cup, but whatever. The producers are cheap. In more ways than one.

Raises his glass.]

Cheers.

[He raises his plastic cup—]

Cheers.

[—and chugs the whole thing, not bothering to taste it. Judging by the amount of swallows, he put quite a lot of whisky in there, actually.

He slams the plastic cup back on the table with an unsatisfying clack.]

I'm going home.

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bluescreenwhitedragon - 2020-05-03 23:19 (UTC) - Expand

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we_meet_again - 2020-05-04 04:33 (UTC) - Expand