postictal: (barely got a lid on it)
Tim W█████ ([personal profile] postictal) wrote in [community profile] bigapplesauce2015-08-05 10:39 pm

take these broken wings and learn to fly [closed]

His head throbs, a single continuous pulse feathering into variations on the same painful theme.

Tim groans and feels his muscles clench as he tries to roll over. A familiar soreness suffuses his entire body, the kind of soreness that takes its sweet goddamn time fading out after -

After -

Well, shit.

All it takes is a cursory glance at his phone for Tim to groan again and slap the device down as he gets slowly, agonizingly, to his feet. He runs fingers over his clothes, through his hair. No twigs and leaves, no mat of mud and blood drying in stiff clumps. His skin remains unscuffed from the phantom tug of undergrowth, his clothing miraculously clean and whole.

And, most importantly - no mask.

Tim breathes out, long and slow, and tries to suppress the faint prickle of relief. Unless his less agreeable self has suddenly gotten way more meticulous about cleaning up after its habitual wrecking of shit, an eerie number-laden message on the network is all he's got to worry about. That'd be a first. He'd almost be grateful for the little bastard if it wasn't set on making his life fucking miserable every chance it got. Regardless, he'll count himself lucky when he can.

Everything still hurts by the time noon hits him square in the face with a bright burst of sunlight through the slats in the shades, and the hiss of crisp fall air. It's surreal that Tim has to remind himself that time is still a thing that exists; absurd as it is, the existence of anything outside his own problems always comes to him as a shock. Like, you know, the weather.

So Tim goes out and buys a Ouija board.

This is - so goddamn stupid, he doesn't think he has a word for it. It's stupidly optimistic. It's a stupid idea, period. But he's out of options, and he feels like an idiot buying something like this, some plastic board at the cheapest magical bullshit place he could find. It's this or ask Asmodia to play telephone every day, and he's about had it with dragging other people into his and Jay's collective shit. She's got better things to do - safer people to spend her time with, no doubt, who are less liable to catapult her life into a complete sanity-draining nightmare.

He enters the apartment, keys rattling over the door, and jiggles the wide, flat box with faux enthusiasm.

"Bought you something," he deadpans.

As usual, the apartment doesn't answer. He pauses in hopes for a gust of chill wind to stab at his shoulder, or for the roll of paper towels to dislodge themselves from the counter - anything that would confirm that he didn't just announce his stupid impulsive baseless purchase to an empty fucking apartment. Like a moron.
ofschrodinger: (Siamese)

[personal profile] ofschrodinger 2015-08-12 05:05 am (UTC)(link)
The cat yawns expansively. Negotiations. Cute. No particular reason why I shouldn't, it agrees. So long as you'll cooperate, let me meet that little friend of yours you've got tucked away.

The ginger cat will be relieved, it knows, to simplify the state of one of its playthings by placing Jay firmly back on the mortal coil. The ginger cat can also go suck a lemon as far as the siamese is concerned; it has its job and has no business complaining.

You've made the right choice, it purrs, letting Jay drop to the floor only to pin him there.
ofschrodinger: (Siamese)

[personal profile] ofschrodinger 2015-08-12 05:26 am (UTC)(link)
The cat cocks its head at him. The other one wouldn't wake up for it before, but if Tim should allow it --

It doesn't need to make the movement in a physical/visual sense but it does so anyway, paw outstretched and claws extended, hooked. There you are, it murmurs as something catches, and tugs, and out it comes!
ofschrodinger: (Siamese)

[personal profile] ofschrodinger 2015-08-12 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
Such a fuss!

The thing it has caught fights against it, to the cat's mild consternation, but once it's got its claws hooked in, once it's exploited the opening given it, Tim's little friend has as much chance of staying hidden away as Jay does of escaping to the mortal coil under its own power. Speaking of which....

I'm finished here, it says lightly, releasing Jay without further ceremony as, unseen, it tucks away something that was once in Tim. It blinks and is gone, and Tim's friend with it.
deadeyedchild: 56-42 (blue)

[personal profile] deadeyedchild 2015-08-12 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
When it throws him to the floor he's actually winded, and he can't speak for several moments, can only grunt with the effort of twisting and writhing against the floor. It feels like there's a weight pressing down on him, a too-familiar sensation of being stepped on, pressing the air out of him, even though he is nothing but. All of this, everything that's happened to him, everything he feels, was it all just due to the whims of the rift?

Tim is giving himself up, he's agreeing, no, no, fuck, no, what is it going to do to him, how is it going to - Jay twists his neck to look up, to see the cat reaching out, see Tim look him in the eye one last moment-

"Tim!" he screams, the cry erupting from him just as Tim's body jerks and collapses to the floor.

The cat releases him, just like that. The sensation of having a body again comes all at once, and it's dizzying, it's nauseating, he's hot and cold all at once and his heart is pounding and he feels hollowed out. The cat is cheerful in its departure. Jay stares up at it, ready to growl like an animal, scream out every empty threat he can think of, but then it's gone.

Jay scrambles forward, awkward, clumsy, until he's huddled over Tim, lifting him up. He's so heavy. He's so still.

"Tim," he whispers. God, no, no, no. "Tim, please, wake up. Tim." He moves one hand to Tim's forehead, his neck, feeling for a pulse. It's there, thready and slow. He's not dead, he's just - out.

Tim's body is either empty or in remission.

Jay feels himself trembling, his fingers tightening uselessly around Tim's arms, digging into his shirt.

"Tim, please," he says again, and again, and again. "Tim, come back, don't - don't leave me."

It's over.

They got what they wanted, got it by using him. Let him play the pawn in their hilarious little game.

Jay curls up, clinging to the nearly lifeless body, he doesn't know for how long.