Realistic or Modern Lull of the Void

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: stress level 500
tags: BriiAngelic miki
​

Unsettled. That was the word. A creeping, gnarled root digging through the joints of his spine, strangling every nerve with the atavistic human instinct to run. An anxiety that raised the hairs on his skin and shallowed his breathing. The less movement of his body the better; maybe she’d get bored and leave. His eyes darted over her body as she swayed to the music, less drawn by the allure and more by prey-animal compulsion.

“What’s it matter to you?” Curt, snappy. The cautionary whip of a stinger. Orson had settled back into his shadows, caked thick around him to shield himself. Shroud himself. One locked bar after another was slammed between him and Lola. But there was something more to that fear, something weeping. A guilt that rotted him still from the core, with Lola pressing her finger into it, carving it open and fresh all again.

V’s comfort nearly went missed, a soft song in a storm of static. The touch felt distant, like it wasn’t his skin being touched. His voice sounded faint, like it wasn’t right beside him. It’s not until V’s lips are beside his ear that Orson blinked awake with the quiet startle of a bad dream. What was he asking?

“No—” The word cut out of him so abruptly it surprised even himself, his hand grabbing V’s forearm before the command even left his brain. The icy fury in his eyes melted into something softer, something mutedly desperate. He released V’s arm as if it hurt to touch him but ached just as much to let him go.

Get it together, Mendel. He inhaled deep through his nose, then exhaled like a man approaching the gallows.

“Sushki and I have been friends for a while. That’s more than enough for you to know.” His voice was stern, steady. Spoken with the intentionality of someone trying to walk in a straight line. “If there’s nothing else, then you can leave now.”

 

[simj26]

Cameron Burns
AstarothShe couldn’t say that she understood what Kayoko was mumbling about. Why was she talking about drywall? Whatever. “Yeah? We’ll just have to identify what you’re struggling at, and then beat the concept into your head. Maths is all about understanding and playing with numbers. Sometimes letters. You get the idea. All you need is to get it in your head how to do it.” The sparkle in her eyes faded as quickly as it had appeared, as her expression dulled again to its usual scowl.

The scowl deepened further when a stranger approached their table. She was trying to do her job, dammit. She didn't need more distractions for her students. At this rate, she might just be pissed enough to give this lesson to them for free.

“Hey, could you kindly fuck off?” She stood up from the seat she had just sat her ass down on. Even when she was slouching, she was still just slightly taller than the intruder. She just wanted to finish up what she had to do here, and go home. If she wanted ice cream, she’d get it on her own personal time, not with shady weirdos like this. “I’m trying to brighten the futures of the next generation here. Fuck off if you ain’t joinin’.”

@AriAriAbabwa @WhiskeyMarten gxxberkit

 

[miki]

Lola Kiss
Location: The Funhouse
Interacting: Klown BriiAngelic ​

---

​

“Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww—”

No getting through to these two. Big shame.

But her goal was completed, wasn’t it? They were totally staying.

“—wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww…”

And all of the sudden, their reactions hit her; a sledgehammer to a brick wall. That is to say, it finally clicked. Her face fell as it sunk in. Their eyes cut unmerciful daggers, ones that matched her memories. She was not welcome in their bubble, and why would she be?

Lola always had trouble with these things.

The persona no longer fit: it suddenly felt like heavy leather on her bones.

Was this withdrawal? She felt dulled, but the buzz didn’t.

She looked up; gazed at her reflection, of which laid behind the wall of bottles that lined the wall. For a fraction of a second, she saw the scenario from beyond her own body. An intruder, and the pathogen was her.

There was nothing left to do but smile.

“Right. Sorry ‘bout that…” She cleared her throat. “Go ahead and get drinks on me. Tell ‘em drinks are on Lola. Yeah.” Not like she had a dime to her name. That’d be coming right out of her paycheck, but her wallet could take the blow easier than her heart could. “Enjoy the show! Yeah!”

Something dreadful crawled up her spine. She shuddered it off before departing with an abrupt wave.

©miki
​

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown ), Lola ( miki )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  A Man
  
  Weird was what this all felt like. His interactions with Orson seemed so different from the open hostility he’d watch the man give this woman. Was this the standard? Was V the outlier instead? He’d been drawn to the other for his soft kindness he’d seen in both interactions with Orson. This though spoke to something. The quick grab and release of his arm, the deep exaggerated breathing, and the resolute dismissal screamed that the other was extremely uncomfortable.
  
  If he was honest it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant to be around either. He looked between Orson and Lola as if he expected the briefest wrong word might wind up shattering something that hung in the air clearly not for him to understand.
  
  He felt a mix of awful and relieved when the woman left. It probably wouldn’t be hard to go find and apologize for it all later on especially since he was the type that couldn’t help but stick their nose where it probably didn’t belong.
  
  “So, gonna tell me what all that’s about. Or would that sour your already failing mood.”
  
  He had the urge to reach out, to pacify, yet he restrained it already seeing how that went without warning. Instead he found himself bringing his own hand through his hair from the crown of his head doing his best to leave his own body language relaxed despite the worries spinning out in his head.
  
  He knew in reality there was nothing to it but being upfront.
  
  “Like I get it if it’s personal but like that was really different from how I’ve seen ya be. At least, I hope so.”
  
  He almost asked if it was the stress of the day ready to give an out and a convenient excuse until he realized he was doing exactly what he hated again. Instead he waited, hoping to hear anything that would make any of what they’d done since walking in this place make sense.
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: rotting from the inside
tags: BriiAngelic
​

He was a cluster of nerves soothed beneath kneading thumbs. With each foot of distance, the fraught air followed the heels of Lola's feet. Orson watched somewhere between the gnawing teeth of relief and shame. A shame that settled in the pit of his stomach like swallowed iron, anchoring him to the floor. He turned in the stool to face the table. Its flat, steady surface was an island amid the darkened ocean where Orson helplessly paddled.

Then there was guilt. A slobbering, monstrous thing with claws and canines keen on ripping. Orson felt its hot, starved breath fanning the back of his neck; felt the tips of its nails press into his shoulders. There’s a tremble to his hands as they reach the first aid kit like it might save him, as if the remedy for decades worth of self-loathing was something he could slap a mere bandage on.

Orson shut the box as V spoke beside him—a statue might as well have taken his place. Any sign of life evaporated off pallid skin, his chest ceased as if his lungs decided they’d tired for the night. The only trace of existence gathered in a cold sweat at his nape.

He’s reminded why he doesn’t allow himself good things: he does not deserve it.

Too much of him had been peeled away. Too much of him had been seen. A disgusting, selfish ugliness that seeped out through spidery cracks.

“…that was really different from how I’ve seen ya be.”

An image. That’s right. He had an image to maintain. A reputation to uphold. What was he doing at a bar where past mistakes and potential future ones could align? The suffocation doesn’t reach the surface. There are no tears in his eyes, or a furrow in his brows. Just a stifling calm and an occasionally clenched jaw.

Orson laughed—if it could be called that. His lungs kicked his ribcage and pushed a single, humorless breath out of him. He turned to V with a smile, one that fell short of his eyes.

“Disillusioned?” I don’t blame you. What a testament to his selfishness that he wanted to know everything about V, but only wanted V to know the parts he could stomach seeing in the mirror—of which there were few of. “Maybe we should call the night here.” Orson stood up from the stool and began to walk away, not meeting V’s eyes again. The table, the seat, the floor, his shoes, his hands. Anything but the eyes that had sparked a greedy hope within his hollowed chest. The eyes that let him deceive himself into thinking he could have something good for a change.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  Do I Wanna Know
  
  Was he the stupid one here? He usually was but he couldn’t help but feel it even stronger seeing the other well for all intents, disconnect. Whatever he’d drug up to the surface was doing neither of them any favors. It was already enough that he’d apparently triggered a landfill but now he was watching with no real understanding of how to stop it.
  
  It made him want to rip his own hair out. It was different, technically easier, less his fault, and far more normal than the train wreck of what he’d gone through with Wybie’s sudden change. Yet for all that it was able to be rationalized he couldn’t accept it again. Had they not just talked things through?
  
  The worst was hearing the other’s miserable excuse for a laugh. He knew a brush off when he’d seen one and for once he didn’t damn well feel like he’d done anything to deserve it. Sure he’d stepped on a land mine but he’d been begging to know how not to. Disillusioned? Who said he’d been trying to chase an illusion?
  
  “That’s bullshit.”
  
  He couldn’t get the words out fast enough before the other was walking away. He thought about it for a moment, giving up again, going back with his tail tucked away despondent and accepting this as just another sign he’d done nothing but ruin every chance Elegguá had ever given him.
  
  “Fuck it…”
  
  He rose to feet finding himself following the other behind having no real reason to stay at a bar he didn’t know and didn’t care for aside from being Orson’s haunt. Without giving it too much of a second thought he found his strides catching up.
  
  “Orson. Hey!” He intercepted the other looking straight into his eyes with both determination and pleading. “I’m not disillusioned. And I have no idea what just happened or why you’re suddenly back to this game of cat and mouse… listen, let’s not end the night like this please. You said I was the highlight of your week.”
  
  He took a step closer reaching out a hand to grab the Orson’s.
  
  “Well you being the highlight of mine is still true. Trust me I’m not disillusioned, in the span of one night you’ve already proven to be just as elusive as the kittens you feed at two am instead of sleeping. So I’m being authentic here, I just want to get to know you better. If you want me to fuck off say so to my face. But if that’s not it… let’s go back to where we met. We can grab some paint and just relax away from the stress. But either way I’m not letting you get away with just running out on me halfheartedly.”
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the funhouse
status: down bad
tags: BriiAngelic
​

V spoke Orson’s name like he was casting a hook, its shiny curve lodged between armor, reaching the supple skin beneath, then pulling. His name had never sounded so compelling, so seizing. On V’s lips, the name belonged to no one else. And, God, those eyes. He could light forest fires with those. There were miracles in that deep umber, and Orson couldn’t pull away once he’d been caught.

It surprised him to hear V want to pursue their night together. To feel the proof of his words relay through the touch of their hands. Orson swallowed the dryness of his mouth, fingers reluctantly eased into V’s grip as he’s lost to V’s orbit once again.

It occurred to Orson that something this good could only be bad for him—so it was fine for him to want it. This spring of hope that sparked his heart and made his veins sing could only end in ashes. But until God or the impartial universe decided his debt was due, he’d pretend it was okay for him to enjoy himself.

He wanted to kiss him again. The sensation burned on his lips like an unyielding addiction. A kiss to say ”I’m sorry, and thank you”. A kiss to say ”This might destroy me but, fuck, I need it.”

There’s a ghost of a smile on Orson’s lips. Hollow, yearning for warmth. There were a dozen things he wanted to say, but none felt right to say under bar lights and booming music.

“Yeah…it’s suffocating in here.” He squeezed V’s hand, a quiet plea. Take me away from here. I only want to show myself where no one else but you can see.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  Sailor Song
  
  The feeling of linked fingers felt like the weight of everything that went wrong lifted. The unease strange air that had been building was beginning to lift as he let out a relieved sigh. With the return of the calmer air he mirrored and amplified the soft grin he was gifted back. This time he’d drag his Prince Charming away with him.
  
  He pulled softly at their linked hands before leading them into a run once again once. Both a distraction and a game to keep the other on their toes. Once they’d been far enough that the cooler night breeze passed over them once again he stopped their run releasing Orson’s hand and finding himself doubling over with a light laughter being released.
  
  “You know we both just skipped out on the tab to your friends place right? I think I probably just left the worst impression possible on them.”
  
  He didn’t spend long on his own laughter though as he went right back to orbiting around the other. With a confidence he was determined to keep he looped his fingers in the belt loops of the other’s jeans bringing their foreheads together.
  
  “You know I’m starting to get a feel I’m a horrible influence for you. What’s next jaywalking?” The teasing in his voice was clearer than any emotion he’d worn on his sleeve all night.
  
  ​

 

[The One Eyed Bandit]

GRESSIL
Easel Franklin​

Easel's expression, dour and looking as if she'd just found a scratch on the hood of a brand new car, was reflected in the jet black surface of the coffee. Break; five letters, one syllable, fifteen definitions, but only one of them relevant to her and Cyprus's shared workday. She'd stepped out of her office because she'd wanted some air, not because she wanted to listen to this woman blab. How had she even known that she was going to be taking her break at this hour anyway?

"Mmm. Right." She took the cup from the other woman without a word of thanks, seeming entirely more bothered with her chatter than she was with the disturbance that shook the facility. She was well used to such things, after all. Her mother's home was nearby the tracks which most of the freight trains that ran through town used, and as old as the house was it was more usual if all of the lights in the house trembled when they ran by than if they didn't. Only a small, utilitarian furrow of irritation managed to claw itself into the edges of her brow, as she stewed on the moment of passing blackness.

"We should do something about it though. I don't know about the other departments, but I can't afford a power cut while we're in the middle of things. If one of them happens during a software or parameter update and something gets corrupted..." Easel took a sip from her coffee. She didn't feel the need to go into details. If there was anything good about Cyprus, it was that she could usually understand the implications of things, at least where work was concerned.

"...I don't even want to think about it. Anyway." She grimaced, and then slowly, awkwardly, started to extricate herself from the conversation. As much of a workaholic as she was, she still didn't want to be talking about it on her break. "I was headed to the roof. I only have fifteen- Or more like twelve minutes now- before I need to be back at the lab. So, if you're done..."

AzaleaWonderland

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the bar district
status: mwah mwah mwah
tags: BriiAngelic ​

Seconds prior, Orson had wished for the ground to rend beneath his feet and drag him into depths beyond the light’s reach. Depths where all he could barely fathom the weight of his thoughts above the deafening darkness. Now, he was catching his breath from being spirited away by a jack-of-all-trades. Stifling laughter like nothing terrible lead them here. Watching V like his laugh was a marvel—and it was. Warm and free and confident. The breeze swept around them, tousling V’s hair like it was enamored by him.

His back straightened, gaze chasing V—a star orbiting the moon. Heat climbed up the side of his neck and face. The sensation wiggled oddly in its chest. Something old and forgotten attempting to find its place within something that’d changed unrecognizably. Orson, after about a possible decade, was feeling shy.

V clicked into place within his space. A piece to a puzzle that’d always belonged. Fingers in belt loops, forehead against forehead, breaths intermingled. How quickly Orson melted, completely defenseless. He was being disassembled down to nothing but the marrow, yet V teased about jaywalking.

Orson huffed out a laugh, low and warm, the tips of their noses brushed slightly. He let his hands crawl up V’s arms, scaling warm skin as if devoting each curve and bruise to memory.

“Maybe, but I think I can afford to be badly influenced. You make it fun.” There’s a fond lilt to the reciprocal tease, his hands settled on the sides of V’s neck, thumbs tracing the edge of his jaw. “God forbid I start jaywalking, though.”

He closed the gap and pressed a kiss to V’s mouth, a step forward pushing V’s back against the nearest wall. It’s unrushed, lingering, and real. Their first kiss had been an affirmation, this one was an exploration. A kiss that cradled new discoveries on the tips of tongues. A kiss that rather than assure it wanted to know more, actively sought it. Soft edges but resolute longing.

Orson pulled away with a gentle bite to V’s lower lip, an impish spark in hazel eyes.

“Now, where on earth are we going to grab paint at this hour?” A strand of V’s longer amber hair suddenly became very interesting, Orson carefully wrapping it around his finger.

 

[BriiAngelic]

• Virgilius "V" Stone | Verrier

• 
  

  Interacting With/Mentions:
  Orson ( Klown )
  ​
  ~ Bar, 5pm ~
  What You Know
  
  It was easy to melt with Orson. To catch onto the flow and match pace when tender touches turned hungry, both reciprocating with caution thrown to the wind. He ran his tongue over his bitten lip as his face flushed with color that reached even the tips of his ears.
  
  He almost missed the question directed to him as his attention was split between admiring hazel eyes and trying not to lean into the hand playing with his hair. Yet the low tone the other had just as easily fought for his attention.
  
  “Ah, right… the paint.” He trailed off thinking on whether or not it was worth it to try to catch a bus. He wasn’t particularly in a rush but it was a hellava walk from here to the edge of town. “Well, if you’re not picky and not in too much of a rush… we can grab some from my place.”
  
  Part of him was screaming internally, not at the idea of Orson coming back with him but of the inevitable ordeal of being seen. Well so long as he was making questionable decisions he might as well bring it all to the table immediately.
  
  “Just uh… don’t expect it to be too fancy. I dunno if you know West Seminole area but uh… yeah it’s definitely more backwoods than the center town.”
  
  ​

 

[Klown]

L E V I A T H A N
ORSON MENDEL
______________________________________________________

location: the bar district
status: happy
tags: BriiAngelic ​

Another portion of the puzzle assembled—The Mystery of Virgilius Stone, hardly a quarter completed. West Seminole. Orson turned the name over in his head as if it would spark some long-forgotten memory. But he’d never been to West Seminole, only knew the name.

Orson barred himself from putting too much thought into the invitation. Should patterns follow, an offer to a date’s house often leads to being tangled up in bed, learning each other beyond what words could carry. Orson wouldn’t have minded, but there was sincerity in V’s eyes when he mentioned simply grabbing the paint and leaving. Obliviousness, naivety, or simply a man of his word.

A barely disguised insecurity chipped at the edges of V’s words. The same backpedaling someone does when trying to brace another for disappointment. A small smile twitched at the corner of Orson's lip.

“Did I give the impression that I was expecting fancy after vandalizing a wall with you at the ass-crack hours of night?” He rubbed his chin pensively, falling into stride with V. “Or was it after we ran away from the cops—you actively bleeding and me covered in—what was it? Strawberry Daiquiri.” There’s a softness in his eyes. Loose, playful. The bags lighter by virtue of the smile on his lips. “As long as your lawn isn’t infested with gators, I think we’re good.”