theattic | PSL: RESIST FASTING

_{[Even though a storm is rolling in and the sun out of sight, the meadow is in harmony.]

[Bees buzzing. Birds singing. Vampires screaming.]}

GOD DAMN IT!

_{[A loud, WHUD echoes over the grasses as Maurice kicks the lone soda machine he found in his aimless woodland wandering. He can take being yanked from dimension to dimension like a dog on one of those terrible retractable leashes, but the multiverse could at least dump him somewhere with a machine that didn't eat the ONLY TWO QUARTERS HE'S BEEN HANGING ONTO FOR THE PAST FOUR YEARS.]

[He gently rests his forehead against the grimy plastic surface.]

[He weeps.]}

[The loud WHUD of aforementioned echo makes Wes jump about a foot in the air.

Which is understandable, perhaps, because loud impacts of any kind are almost always accompanied by something terrible. Tree guardians. Beargers. Beefalo in heat. Rock lobsters, if he's underground.

But as he stands, frozen, in the swaying grass, his makeshift spear clutched tightly in white-gloved hands... nothing happens.

And nothing continues to happen.

Slowly, the rabbits that bolted down their holes begin to poke whiskered noses out into the air again.

He begins to let out the breath he'd been holding.

And swallows hard.

... what... was that...?]

Edited 2015-09-14 02:33 (UTC)

_{[Wes, thankfully, hasn't been noticed yet because Maurice has been holding these tears in for a very, very long time and if anything else had popped up to interrupt him, he might have had some kind of really unfortunate facial explosion happen.]

[Instead, he just cries and cries, slowly sinking down to his knees and reaching into the bin at the bottom of the machine full of dead hope. The only thing inside is two leaves. He curls into a ball.]}

[Wes stalks through the grass carefully, warily, fearfully; the only sound is the occasional rustle of grass as he moves, and even that is mostly silent. For a minute or more, he makes his way closer to the origins of the sound, his heart racing hard in his narrow chest.

And as he gets closer, though, he hears a different sound.

It's a sound he knows he knows, but which is somehow... also... strange. Uncomfortable. Not unfamiliar, just... he can't quite place it. He hesitates.

Then he steels himself and pushes forward, tightening his grip on the spear and rising from the grass to see--

.... he has no idea what he's seeing.

A tall, slightly misshapen red box rises out of the prairie. Something--is that... a Merm?--is on the ground at its base, wailing. Or blubbering. Or... what?

Wait.

... that's... not a Merm.

....????????????

Is that a... it can't be a person?]

_{[Maurice eventually stops crying and starts coughing. Well, he feels a little better now. He needed to get that out of his system. He pushes himself up on an elbow and scowls at the red plastic monolith. Of course. Of course. It would eat his money. He could tear it open, sure, but...it would probably be empty.]

[He brushes his hair out of his face and sits all the way up in time to notice the MIME WITH A SPEAR out of the corner of his eye. The blue man turns a pair of huge red headlights on Wes and hiccups exactly once before going still.]

[Oh. Well this explains a few things. This isn't the universe kicking him, he's just gone insane. Much less personal.]}

Okay.

[Wes is... in much more shock than Maurice is. He's pretty much just... stopped functioning for a moment. In addition to being a person--a person, blue and strange and with red eyes but alive and--

And--

Honestly that alone would have been enough to stop Wes in his tracks, but he's finally identified the unidentifiable sound as crying. And the box. And--

Wes very slowly takes one step towards the blue man. And there he stops again, looking at the man uncertainly.]

_{[It's a mime. A mime with a spear. If Maurice had actually let himself be led into reading, he might have compared himself to Odd Thomas, Wes being his Elvis.]

[But that doesn't happen.]

[Instead, Maurice flat-out ignores the man in the face paint and goes back to rubbing his face and groaning unhappily to himself. He hopes he doesn't start hallucinating about the sunrise because that's going to make things really complicated.]}

[That... isn't the response Wes is expecting.

He hadn't realised he was expecting anything, and he still isn't sure what it is he had expected, but... it turns out that wasn't it.

He... doesn't know what to do with that.

So he starts to sneak up a little closer--all pretences at stealth are completely pointless, yes, but there he is, sneaking up carefully on a man he's made eye contact with already.

Mimes, man.]

_{[Now that Maurice is aware of it, the rustling in the grass that Wes makes catches his attention. He looks back at the advancing mime and frowns tiredly. Why is this happening to him? Is this some kind of karmatic ass kicking? He thought that was over with the spooky house. He thought he'd gotten his reward for overcoming his assholishness in Ruby City. But no, there's still more.]

[And it's mimes.]}

You don't wanna eat me, man. Trust me.

_{[What else would he be doing with that spear?]}

[Wes stops, staring at Maurice reproachfully for a moment. But he doesn't connect Maurice's statement with his spear, and after a brief hesitation, he creeps up even closer. And closer still.

Finally he's about a foot away from the definitely-not-a-Merm, peering carefully at his face with wide brown eyes, maybe looking for some detail, something about him--

He looks real...]

Edited 2015-09-17 05:29 (UTC)

_{[Absolutely nothing about Wes's actions do anything to convince Maurice that he is not, in fact, also a hallucination. Why is he still sneaking? Why does he have a spear? WHY IS HE A MIME?]

[Although.]

[Something about the mime's eyes give something away--something that his brain shouldn't have been smart enough to make up, even body surfing through the shallows of insanity. He was not reflected there. In all his dreams, Maurice noted, he always had his reflection.]

[Maurice leaned away, his head thunking gently against the machine.]}

Is this...yours?

_{[He points behind him.]}

[--!

Wes stops peering closely into Maurice's tear-streaked face long enough to lean sideways and peer less closely at the big box instead.

It's bigger than the big man and red instead of blue, but they're approximately the same degree of ragged-looking, and approximately as alien to Wes' eye; he regards it for a moment, then looks back at Maurice questioningly.

Was this... his?

He shakes his head quickly, then gives Maurice another puzzled look.

Nope.

What is it?]

_{[No...?]

[Okay. With a gusty sigh, he rocks forward and pushes himself to his knees before standing up. He doesn't even bother brushing the dirt and grass off of his jeans.]}

Are you here to escort me to the afterlife because of my childhood dream to be a part of the theater?

_{[It's the only other thing he could think of. Still didn't explain the spear though.]}

[.... wh.

No. Wait. What?

Wes stares at Maurice. He stares at him for a long time. Like a whole minute, maybe.

What afterlife? There was... no afterlife now. No Heaven. No Hell. Just an endless cycle of dying and reviving and Maxwell and waking up with a new headache and--

Okay, no. Stop. Wait.

Wes closes his eyes tight and shakes his head fiercely, throwing up one hand to stop Maurice before he says something else that can confuse him more.

The box. He'd asked him about the box. Right?]

_{[It's a good thing that Wes signed for him to stop because the vampire had opened his mouth to ask ANOTHER question of the poor man who'd only been through -one- upsetting otherworld.]

[He shuts his jaws and he waits.]}

Uh...

[Oh thank God that worked.

Wes might be covering it up well with his face paint, but he hasn't actually slept in about a week, if not more. His ability to keep track of so many things at once is a little compromised.

Plus, he hasn't actually heard the sound of a person's voice in... well, since he last woke up from death with Maxwell greeting him. And besides that--

But the box. He wants to know about the box. He gestures with one hand towards it and looks at Maurice, one brow creasing in mute query.]

_{[Maurice followed the gesture, looking back at Wes again with that sad, defeated look.]}

The soda machine? I don't know, I just...it was there! And I put money in and I thought, oh, good job, Maurice, you made it to the end of WHATEVER THE HELL your life has become now! Have a Pepsi! But no!

_{[Maurice rose his voice as he ranted, unintentionally, and started to shake, returning Wes's gesturing without really meaning to.]}

NO, MAURICE, you can't have a Pepsi because now you're stuck in some bullshit field and there's NOBODY AROUND but a fuckin' ghost mime (no offence) and I'm just...I'm just done and I want to go home.

_{[He panted, having said all of it on one lungful. He wearily jerked an arm back and gave the machine another loud thump with his fist.]}

I'm sorry.

PSL: RESIST FASTING

Seeing Stripes

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