isawallflower | RYSLIG; ic inbox

[ Oh. Ohhhhh no. ]

hold on just a minute

[ And she is immediately up and out the door, painkillers in hand. She takes the stairs two at a time as she rushes down four stories, right to Steve's apartment. Room 401, where before they wound up in a weird bizarro world, he'd told her he'd be if she needed him. After...everything with her false abomination of a family.

She raps her fist against the door. ]

Steve? Steve, I'm coming in, okay?

[ Hopefully the door is unlocked, or else this is going to get a little stupid. ]

[ It's unlocked, as of only a few seconds ago. When his voice comes from inside, it's very close. ]

Sure, just watch your step...

[ Why will imminently become clear, because he's right there when she opens the door, slumped beside it on the floor, a sheen gathering on his skin from the full-body workout some may refer to as "experiencing an extreme amount of pain."

His legs are tangled in a rather (unfortunately) lightly-colored blanket, actively becoming soaked through with blood. There's also a patchy snail trail of it leading to the spot he's resting in now; he definitely crawled, and probably grabbed something to cover himself with while he was at it for the sake modesty, as he's hardly dressed for bed.

In fact, it smells like he's been cooking something. ]

This is one way to get you to spend some time outside your room, I guess.

[ Riley remembers what it was like when her— Well. When her feet melted. She'd left a mess of blood and skin everywhere, her legs resembling more raw, messy steak than anything else for a good few hours. It'd taken them a whole day and a half to fully deteriorate and rebuild themselves. At some point, she'd lost herself to the pain, or the painkillers, or...both, honestly, and stopped thinking about how awful it was.

Now, that's on full display, but with someone else. Someone she cares about. ]

Oh m-my— [ She can't help it, she trips over her words a little, as she fights to keep from sinking to her knees. ] Don't even— [ Her jaw clenches very tightly, and she shuts the door behind her. ] I'm- I'm going to get you some water, so just—

[ Can't even finish a single sentence, can she? She was with Giorno when his feet started expelling all their bones, but...she hasn't seen most people going through their transformations otherwise. But, she's not going to let that hold her back. She hurries to the kitchen — the kitchen, where presumably whatever he's been cooking is...probably still there, let's not start a fire or anything — to get him something to down the pills with. ]

Hey—

[ She's already rushing away as he tries to respond, leaving him shouting after her, voice cracking in a way that makes him sound delirious even though he's really not. ]

Most of it's tomato sauce, don't freak out!

[ Not what's coating his extremities. That's definitely blood. In the kitchen, however, is another display of environmental story-telling, the upside-down pan sitting in the middle of a large starburst of red heavily hinting that this may be where his afternoon started to go awry. The pasta that's supposed to go with the sauce is still boiling on the stove. He couldn't reach the dial to turn it off like this, not even in his wildest dreams of trying to push through the pain to be self-sufficient.

Anyway—a laugh croaks from the entryway as Steve thinks of how ridiculous the scene must look to Riley. It's the only thing making him feel better. ]

[ Her voice rising several octaves, Riley calls back, almost indignant, not quite thinking: ] Do not give me that, I know what blood looks— oh. Oh.

[ As she...reaches the kitchen and realizes just what he means there, the spot on the floor, not...the rest of it, the stuff soaking through his blanket. The sight of it all gives her a small moment where she can piece together just how this went, especially with the pasta.

It makes a lot more sense, but picturing it isn't exactly a fun experience. As she retrieves a glass of water, she starts murmuring, mostly to keep herself from thinking about the thought of Steve suddenly crashing to the floor, dropping everything as he does and crawling across his apartment. ]

Gonna...boil everything away, that's no way to make— [ Almost as an afterthought, she flicks off the burner before returning to the front of the apartment, still in what we would call a bit of a frenzy.

Glass of water in one hand, bottle of painkillers in the other, now she lets herself sink to her knees beside Steve. ] Here, start with...with two, and if you need more, we'll go from there.

Edited (icon) 2021-03-27 07:00 (UTC)

[ He hasn't moved, of course, the wall behind him keeping him in somewhat of a dignified posture for the time being.

He wonders if the déjà vu hits her just as hard when she knelts down. How many scrapes, cuts and summer colds have stuck in her brain, and does she recall the time he fractured his wrist trying to jump from the roof to the pool, when he looked just as pitiful rolling around on the deck.

She'd probably be pretty cross with him if she ever found out that's happened in more than one lifetime.

And less cross with the way he immediately, greedily knocks back what's offered, taking two, three, four extra large gulps of the water and panting when it's done. ]

How many... did you need? Be honest.

[ Predictably, memories momentarily overwhelm her, and she's overcome with the desire to push back his hair from his sweat-covered forehead, as she'd done in that alternate life when he caught a stomach bug that laid him out for days, one she'd bounced right back from despite catching it first.

Little moments, all these little fragments as vivid and loud in her mind as...her brother closing the door, sorry, Riles, I don't have time today.

She forces herself to focus on his question instead, even though that's not a single bit more comfortable.

I... [ Her gaze drops. ] I lost track. It just kept...not working, and thinking back, it's... It's hard to remember after the first...four.

[ Riley wonders, if her physiology was still human, just how bad that could've messed her up. ]

[ Hearing that just makes him want to demand more. Riles, please just get it over with, because it sounds like... well, if two is the human dosage, odds are this isn't going to be enough, is it?

There's only one reason he doesn't force her to listen to that, and it's that he knows what she's thinking with that downcast glance. It's too dangerous. ]

How long should we—

[ Jamming his mouth into the crook of an elbow, he bites down on his sleeve for as little the thin material helps. As he silences himself, other sounds become clearer. The passing of cars four stories below. The newscasters on TV in the other room, babbling at low volume. The vague crunching noises coming from the damp bundle in front of him.

After a few moments the latter stops, and sometime after that his teeth shakily let go of the fabric. ]

How long should we wait?

[ Riley's all set to be firm and put her foot down. No, they have to be responsible about this. They're not going to throw caution to the wind and be stupid, because that's how accidents happen, and that's how people get hurt, why doesn't anyone understand that—

But then he stops talking and her eyes widen as cracking crunching horror fills her ears. All at once, she pours another two pills into her palm, shoves them at him. ]

Just- just take them. Just— [ Her voice cracks. ] It won't be enough like this, just take them.

[ Another side-effect from a week, a lifetime of being family, is that she can't stand to see him in pain. What she tells herself is this is different, this isn't because he's trying to have fun or disregard others, it's because he needs it. It's okay, that way. It's okay, if he needs it. ]

[ He doesn't need to be convinced. He nearly drops both capsules in fumbling to bring them to his mouth. Along with the rest of the liquid in the glass, they're swallowed, too.

While he'd like to think his pain tolerance is quite high, and that theory has certainly been tested before, it's barely been five minutes and he's sure he's not going to be able to take this like a man. He can't even joke about it; he can try to do that last thing, but it's not going to sound anywhere near convincing, what with his breath faltering like he's giving freaking birth. ]

I... I was actually planning on inviting you over today, one of those surprises that I know you hate...

[ He sags to the side a bit, looking ready to give up on being a person and morph into a slug. As he does, he drapes an arm over her knelt knees without warning. Part of his brain no longer thinks it needs permission to just go right ahead and face his palm upward in her lap, asking for it to be held. ]

Last time a bunch of shit went down, we had spaghetti, so I just thought... you know, could be a tradition...

Edited 2021-03-30 22:59 (UTC)

[ One foot in this lifetime, one foot in the other, Riley finds herself shocked he was going to invite her for dinner, while at the same time automatically finding his hand with her own. The muscle memory that doesn't exist halts as she remembers, she has claws here, carefully maneuvering so she doesn't rip up his skin.

What the hell did all of this do to her? ]

You are...such a... [ She can't find the right word. Simply leans forward and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. It feels natural, and all those weird twisted feelings she'd been trying to sort out, the wonder if she likes him, like that, like she hasn't seemed to like any boy before, they just completely melt away.

She feels so stupid. But, in a good way. ] Call first, [ she murmurs into his hair. ] Next time. I'll help.

[ Not long after their fingers join, his hand squeezes down and his eyes clamp shut, the moment disrupted by another wave of popping, squishing, snapping sounds that limbs should not make.

She's seen him in the morning prior to his daily hour spent carefully preening in front of a mirror, when he thinks he looks his worst. And she's also seen him in the evening, after he's been waiting for the end of a bad school day to let out his emotions in the privacy of his bedroom, when he actually looks his worst—so it's fine if a few tears quietly escape the corners of his eyes.

She won't tell anyone. ]

Cooking's not usually such a nightmare.

Shhhh.

[ Riley's free arm wraps over Steve's shoulder; a warm, kind hug is what he needs, though she can't complete the hug unless she lets go of his hand and there is no way she'll do that. Not now. She's only got two— Ah.

In a moment of clarity, her wings, carefully folded against her back, swoop forward around the both of them. Much better. ]

Happens to everyone. First time I made spaghetti, it...felt more like rubber than pasta. [ Not in the life they'd shared together, but in the first one—the lonely one. ]

Edited 2021-04-08 06:54 (UTC)

[ His eyes crack back open a bit to figure out what's going on.

Orange. Orange everywhere.

Oh.

They close again, less forcefully this time. With his remaining senses, he tries to focus on the soft down that envelops him like the bed he can't make it to, and not

SNAP.

His whole body flinches. A few deep breaths later, he sifts around for any recollection of this rubber spaghetti. The only memories that surface are of them in a dated looking kitchen with the man called Erin Soelberg hovering close behind, gently correcting their mistakes. ]

I'd always reread the box over and over and over... [ Steve goes on woozily, hooking his chin over Riley's shoulder. ] ...and over, because I was worried I'd forget something important.

[ His real dad would kill him if he came back from a conference to find out he'd made a mess of the place. ]

Every time, even though the directions never changed.

[ They were a literal pain growing in, and they get in the way of everything. But Riley thinks the wings, they're the part of Ryslig itself that she found herself longing for, in that other world, without even realizing it. Carefully, relying on the other life, she runs her hand over the nape of Steve's neck, taking care not to scratch him. A tactile sensation, repetitive, to distract from the pain.

That's why she's talking, too, anything to provide a distraction, and this? This is a pretty easy topic. ]

Me too. Even though, I... I'd memorize them, [ remember? she almost adds, because that didn't change, memories of the two lives twisting together in a strange sort of do-si-do. ] Um. Still. To make sure...I wasn't screwing things up.

[ There'd be no one else around to clean it up, if she did, after all. ]

[ That's right.

She'd do that. He knows, because he thought he was so funny he'd sometimes confiscate the macaroni to hold a pop quiz before letting her have it.

Steve, who is and isn't that boy in his own memories, tries to adjust his body closer. He wraps his other arm around her in an effort to hold tight to the soft stroking he's felt both zero and a dozen times, reassuring him that this too will pass. ]

I don't think the box can tell us how to salvage it off the floor. [ For the first time since Riley's record dash down four flights, the transformation leaves Steve be long enough for him to get a full laugh out of the air in his lungs. ]

Maybe we can order some pizza from downstairs in a bit. That's close enough.

[ As if it's natural, Riley shifts to accommodate him, so she's not kneeling awkwardly. She moves on an instinct she never knew she had, one she never got to develop. A billion fragments of what never was swirl around them, and she finds herself somewhere between the time she'd crawled into Steffan's bed during a particularly loud thunderstorm and being carried home after she'd sprained her ankle while climbing a tree.

What her mind says is, this is her brother, one who's taken care of her. It's only right to return the favor. It's a terrifying thought, and yet... ]

We'll take care of it later. If...I had more in my pantry, I'd make us something, but— [ His laughter warms her ear and she sets her chin on his shoulder. He should probably have more water, before the waves of pain ripple over him again, but somewhat selfishly, Riley doesn't want to pull away. ]

...Pizza sounds perfect. [ He already knows her order, right? Large, extra cheese. That other world didn't have gluten-free, but she's been less strict about that in the last few months. ]

Great.

[ She can probably gauge that he's smiling from the motion of his jaw muscles. ]

I've got coupons for days and days. [ A couple from Clint, the rest from when he was working at the place for his inaugural months on the peninsula. Regardless of what his answering machine still says, he kind of is the free pizza hotline. ] Top left drawer by my bed.

[ But even as he tells her where to find them, he contradicts himself by clinging harder. He doesn't know how soon the drug's going to kick in, or if it will before whatever's happening to the bones in his legs leaves him convulsing out of his own skin. He just knows he's not as afraid now that she's here. ]

[ As if reading his mind, Riley squeezes him very lightly, continuing the rhythmic massaging of his scalp. ]

It's okay. Later. I'm not going anywhere.

RYSLIG; ic inbox

<CheeryCherry> -> Action

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: unsafe medication use, overdose references

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CHEERYCHERRY. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 019.46.820.17 * CHEERYCHERRY has joined 019.46.820.17 <CHEERYCHERRY> It's Riley! <CHEERYCHERRY> Please leave a message! <CHEERYCHERRY>** Please be someone with their priorities sorted out properly!