singthesong: (Stage Lights)
The Balladeer ([personal profile] singthesong) wrote in [community profile] bigapplesauce2016-03-02 09:08 pm

The Edges of the World [closed]

Morning dawns in a strange fog.

The Balladeer can't even remember getting out of bed, but he finds himself standing in the hall. He's already dressed, too...it takes a few seconds for him to register that as odd. He stares down at his sleeve. When did that happen? How did that happen? You might stumble tired out of bed, but it seems strange to have lost the entire process of getting ready. That can't be right. It can't be; something's not right with him. Thinking feels like swimming through molasses, like forcing his way through darkness into a time where he's not meant to be. It reminds him of his attempted escape, before he fell right into the Rift instead.

Is he getting sick again?

He sways a little on his feet, and squints hard at the wall with the effort of focusing. Should he just go back to bed? Sleep suddenly sounds very nice; he could sleep for a year. But after a second, he remembers - Steven lives here now. The kid will worry if he just doesn't see him all morning. It's not like him to sleep so much. At the least, he needs to find him and tell him that busking's off for today. Then he'll go back to bed.

The Balladeer nods in agreement with his own plan, and promptly regrets the movement as his vision blurs. The floor lurches beneath him. He catches the wall and takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. In and out, in and out. Okay. That's fine, no big deal. He's still standing. He's okay.

He shuffles into the apartment's little kitchen area. From the outside, it's obvious that he's not all there right now. His eyes are glassy, and he blinks at Steven in apparent confusion for a few seconds before speaking. "Hey, um..."

He can't remember what he meant to say. So instead he furrows his brow at Steven, as if expecting the answer to appear any second now.
cheeseburger_backpack: (frown - oh dear)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-03 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
Steven, on the other hand, is still in his pajamas (a nice, warm flannel adorned with little rocket ships). At least he's awake, though! He's sitting up on the couch and contemplating making some breakfast when the Balladeer shuffles in, already dressed.

"Oh!" This is an earlier start than Steven anticipated, but he can roll with this. "Are we busking early? I can get dressed!" He hops off the couch, leaving rumpled blankets in his wake, and heads for the little two-drawer chest that holds his small but serviceable Rift York wardrobe.

When the Balladeer doesn't respond right away, Steven glances at him, then turns to look at him properly. Something doesn't seem right. Is he sick? Why would he have bothered getting dressed if he didn't feel well? "... Are you okay?" Steven asks, brow furrowing in growing concern.
cheeseburger_backpack: (concern)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-03 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
This definitely isn't right, and Steven pads across the room until he's close enough to reach for the Balladeer's hand. "Hey, maybe you should sit down," he says. That seems like a good first step. Then, once Steven has a better idea of what's wrong, he can call Greta or someone else for help (if he needs to).

"Come on," he coaxes, giving the Balladeer a gentle tug towards the couch. "We'll get you all set up on the couch. Doctor Steven is going to take awesome care of you!" He knows how to make soup and everything. He can do this!
cheeseburger_backpack: (frown - what no)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-03 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
See, things aren't so bad. Steven's worried, sure, but the Balladeer's going along with his suggestions. That's... probably a good thing, right?

Or maybe it isn't. Steven's eyes widen when the Balladeer starts to slump against the couch. That can't be good. "Balladeer? Balladeer!" It's like he can't even hear him. Has he fainted? "What's happening?" he asks helplessly, the question falling on uncomprehending ears. Steven reaches up to grip the Balladeer's shoulders and gives him a little jiggle, hoping that will rouse him. "You gotta wake up!"

What will he do if he doesn't? Would Greta even know how to fix this?
cheeseburger_backpack: (frown - oh dear)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-03 02:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Steven hops back, startled. This is weird. This is weird even by magical Gem stuff standards. It's like the Balladeer's become a whole different person, but there's no reason for it. He's not a Fusion. He didn't hit his head. Steven's pretty sure there's no such thing as an illness that makes you act like someone else.

Is it the Rift? The Balladeer did say that sometimes the Rift does weird things to people. Maybe that's what's going on... which means it might start happening to other people, too, right? It might start happening to him.

He still feels pretty normal, though.

"It's your apartment," he says, watching the Balladeer uneasily. He remembers the first time he met Opal, and how he hadn't known what to expect. But at least he knew what was going on, and who Opal was made of.

"Do you remember me?" he asks.
cheeseburger_backpack: (frown - determined)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-03 06:48 pm (UTC)(link)
The Balladeer's tone throws him more than the question. He sounds so mean. It feels less like something is wrong with the Balladeer and more like he isn't even there anymore. Like someone else has hopped into the Balladeer's skin and taken over.

Opal remembered him. All his friends' Fusions remembered him. If the Balladeer was in there, he'd remember.

Steven straightens, his frown shifting from worried to determined. "I'm Steven Universe, I'm a Crystal Gem, and I want my friend back. Who are you?"
cheeseburger_backpack: (suspicious)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-03 08:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"You can't leave!" Steven objects, searching for an excuse besides 'because I'm still in my pajamas.' It doesn't matter; the Balladeer's ignoring him and heading for the door. Who knows where he'll end up if he leaves the building. He might get lost. He might get hurt. Someone else might get hurt. Even the best case scenario has Steven chasing after him in his pajamas.

He takes a few running steps after the man. "Wait!" he yells, throwing out his arms. A large, pink bubble envelopes both of them - too large to fit out the door. Steven rebounds off the curved interior wall with a grunt, then picks himself up. He's not sure he likes being this close to whoever it is that's taken over the Balladeer's body, but at least he can't escape or ignore him this way. Now he has to talk to him.

Steven folds his arms. "I'm not letting you go until you tell me who you are."
cheeseburger_backpack: (concern)

[personal profile] cheeseburger_backpack 2016-03-04 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
Steven winces a little at the language. This definitely isn't the Balladeer. But he's in the Balladeer's body, and Steven's not letting him run off with it.

"I'm-" he wants to say 'your friend,' but it's only half-true. He doesn't know who James Hidell is. Does he have his own body out there, somewhere? Have he and the Balladeer switched places? "I just want to help," he says instead, lifting his hands peaceably. "I think you're in the wrong place. That body belongs to my friend, the Balladeer."

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CHOO CHOO!!!

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andhiswife: (profile - uncertain)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2016-04-04 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
They've been busy, for the most part. There was plenty to do, at least at first: erasing every trace of Oswald's fight with Johnny, making sure Johnny was all right and Steven was in good spirits. The latter was easier than it should have been; the lad's irrepressible optimism bolstered the rest of them more than the other way around. But it's late, and they're all winding down in spite of everything. Greta is on her way to nodding off on Iman's shoulder when the Balladeer calls for her - and there really is no mistaking his voice, especially after listening to Oswald complain all day.

She is instantly wide awake and scrambling off the couch; a moment later, she's in the bathroom doorway. The Balladeer looks up at her, and Oswald would never look at her like that, and she has to swallow past the lump in her throat before she can even speak. "It's all right," she says, dropping into a crouch by the bathtub and reaching in to untie the knots in the bedsheet. She winces briefly - it's not all right - and amends, "It's going to be all right. You--you gave us a scare, but we'll get you out of here." She shoots him an anxious, strained smile as Steven appears in the doorway behind her.

"Hi," Steven says, raising a hand in an uncharacteristically cautious wave. He glances at the Balladeer's head wound, then asks, "Are you... feeling okay?"
andhiswife: (do it for me?)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2016-04-04 01:18 pm (UTC)(link)
The Balladeer looks down at his blood-covered hand, and Greta opens her mouth in an instinctive desire to say something reassuring before closing it again. There's nothing reassuring she can say. 'It's probably just yours' wouldn't be much comfort.

Instead, she looks back over her shoulder. "Steven, could you please get a glass of water and the first aid kit?"

"Sure," Steven says quickly, looking grateful for something to do. He disappears, and Greta turns back to the Balladeer.

"We're not sure exactly what happened," she says. It's technically true. It's also stalling, but she can't just dump everything on him at once. She has to be careful about this.

He was careful with her, and she had the comparative luxury of knowing what was coming.

Her hands make quick work of untangling the bedsheet from around his ankles, more because she's distracted than because Iman didn't do her work well. "You weren't yourself today," she says quietly, keeping half an eye on him while she works. "It was like you turned into a completely different person." His knuckles are injured, and his wrists are probably raw, so she carefully rests her hand on his forearm instead of reaching for his hand. "Do you remember anything?"
andhiswife: (neutral - nice)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2016-04-05 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
Greta's brow furrows as she considers how to respond - she'd be more than happy to blame the Rift for this, though she can't honestly say anything has been 'going around' - but Steven returns before she can answer. He has the first aid kit tucked under one arm and a glass of water in hand.

"Got 'em," he says, passing the glass of water to the Balladeer. He holds on to the first aid kit, clutching it in front of his chest like a shield, and glances from Greta to the Balladeer and back. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Greta's expression softens. They've discussed this already, and she'd made it clear to everyone that she would handle the explanations on her own. She knows the Balladeer best - and vice versa. Better for it to just be her, and no concerned audience. Still, she can't blame the lad for wanting to do more. "Why don't you go make some tea?" she suggests gently. That seems more likely to go over well than a snack. She's not sure how much the Balladeer will feel like eating after this.

"Okay." Steven looks a bit disappointed as he sets the first aid kit on the sink, but perks up enough to add, "I'm gonna make the best tea," before heading purposefully toward the kitchen.

Greta sighs quietly, then turns back to the Balladeer. "It might have been the Rift, but it didn't seem to strike anyone else. Something happened this morning. Steven said it was like you fainted for a moment, but when you woke up, you weren't... you, anymore." She hikes her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "We've been waiting for you to come back to yourself all day."

She manages a faint, weary smile. Miserable as this conversation is going to be, it's still good to have him back. She straightens, using the edge of the tub for leverage, then offers him a hand up. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."
andhiswife: (neutral - downcast)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2016-04-05 03:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Yes. Might actually be Saturday morning, at this point," she says. There's a washcloth hanging near the sink that managed to survive the general chaos, and she cranks on the hot water tap so she can dampen it. "Here, sit," she says, nodding towards the toilet. "We'll see to your head, first."

She wrings out the washcloth, and once the Balladeer's head is at a level she can more easily work with, she starts to gently dab at the dried blood, starting farthest from the actual wound and her working her way closer. They probably could have done this earlier, and arguably should have, but Oswald was just so unpleasant that none of them had been leaping at the opportunity to deal with him in any capacity.

"Steven called him," she murmurs. "He texted everyone, and Johnny got here quickest. You - well, not you, the other fellow," she amends with a frown. "He was trying to leave the building, and Steven couldn't stop him on his own. He was worried he'd just walk off with your body and get lost or something, so Johnny came to help stop him, and..." she sighs, giving the washcloth another rinse. "He didn't want to be stopped."

Given the Balladeer's current state, she probably doesn't need to spell out that there was a struggle.

"This might sting," she warns as she carefully goes to work on the actual wound itself. Her lips quirk into a mirthless smile, and she adds, "Just like old times," under her breath.
andhiswife: (neutral - inquiring)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2016-04-05 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)
Greta's stomach twists at the question, but unless Johnny excuses himself before they leave the bathroom (which he wouldn't), there's no avoiding it. They managed to clear away most of the evidence of the brawl. The lamp has been mended, furniture straightened - even the banjo case with its sorry contents has been tucked back under the bed. But while Johnny's cuts and bruises have been seen to, they're still there, and it's still obvious that he came off worse.

"Yes," she says, setting the washcloth aside and retrieving the neosporin, an excuse to avoid eye contact. "But he's been tended to already. He'll be fine." At least that last bit doesn't feel forced. Gabriel will probably heal the lad right up as soon as he returns to his building.

She applies ointment in silence for a moment, gathering herself together. She's spent hours trying to decide the best way to go about this, if there even is a best way - as if this won't be devastating no matter how she presents it - and she still doesn't feel ready. But it doesn't matter how she feels. He needs to know, and he needs time to process things before they run out of excuses to stay in here.

"The man you... became," she finally hazards, "didn't want to give us his real name. But we're fairly certain he was Lee Harvey Oswald." She waits a beat, half-expecting an immediate and explosive reaction, but none comes. She leans back a little, the better to give the Balladeer a searching look. "Is that name at all familiar?"
andhiswife: (pained)

[personal profile] andhiswife 2016-04-06 02:47 am (UTC)(link)
The Balladeer looks up at her in bewilderment, and it is so much worse than horrified recognition would have been. If he'd known who Oswald was... but he doesn't. To be honest, her hopes hadn't been very high. Much as she hates to admit it or even think about it, the physical resemblance is undeniable.

Greta sighs, then carefully lowers herself to perch on the edge of the tub. "He used a false name, but when Iman searched for it online, she found him." She folds her hands, squeezing them between her knees to stop herself from fidgeting. She can't put this off any longer.

"He's an assassin. He shot President Kennedy fifty years ago - to the day." She looks up at him almost pleadingly, still endeavoring to stay calm. She has to; she won't put him in the position of having to comfort her. "Are you certain you haven't met him?" she asks, low and urgent.

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THREE MOVIES AND A STAGE PLAY

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