bigapplesauce | an unexpected failure to journey [closed]

Current Location: The Ramble
Current Music: August 27th

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an unexpected failure to journey [closed]

Usually he wakes up from disorientation in the woods, not to it. But today he's stirred by wind on his cheek, rustling leaves and branches, birds sounding much more present than they would from beyond a hotel window. He feels suspended somehow, no solid support beneath his back. He's upright, but he's not on the ground either. What...?

Full consciousness comes abruptly and painfully when he jerks and flails, or tries to flail, quickly stymied by the thorny tendrils that are tangled all around his limbs and torso, pinning him to the unruly underbrush growing around the trees. The brambles aren't very extensive, but he is definitely in their midst, held him fairly fast a few inches off the ground.

Okay then.

Ordinarily he'd think he was dreaming but he's gotten a little too good at knowing the difference. He's definitely awake. He doesn't remember leaving the hotel, doesn't remember anything happening that could possibly explain this. Even with that he doesn't quite panic. This might as well happen. Rift life is already so goddamn weird. Every day is a gambit of refreshing normalcy and staggering weirdness.

He's not tightly restrained and the branches aren't that thick - he's pretty sure he could escape if he could just...

"Ow!" he snaps as the thorns snag at his clothing and prick him all up and down his arms. God dammit. He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Cool. All right."

He pulls his hands into fists and tries to move his legs. His jeans protect him little, but he really can't get good enough leverage to tear himself free. He tries again, a few different ways, and finds it becoming almost increasingly difficult, every time making the minor pains a little worse. He can't even reach his hand to his pocket, though he can feel his phone in there. Finally he just releases his tension, hangs there, defeated.

So what is he supposed to do, just wait for someone to stumble upon him? Maybe if he can get some animal's attention he could ask it to find Daine? He looks around for squirrels or birds but none are close enough, and if a person does happen along he'd really rather not be entangled in brambles and yelling at random birds.

This is the Ramble, right? It has to be. The TARDIS must be somewhere around here, not close enough that he can feel her, but. Maybe she can see him, send someone to help.

Or he could just pray.

No. Not like this. If they're going to talk again it's not going to be for something like this. It's going to be because Johnny goes back on his own.

Which leaves him with nothing to do but wait.

He settles in as well as he can and definitely does not sulk.

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"Hmph." By that logic, Cinderella wasn't worth the Prince's attention. Neither was she, for that matter - but the Prince didn't love her, and if he loved Cinderella, it wasn't enough to keep him from straying. Probably not the best example, then.

She remembers Gabriel's healing kiss. Charming. She wonders if she really ought to be encouraging Johnny at all. This isn't her business.

Well. Johnny's made it her business. She can't vouch for Gabriel's intentions, but she's not letting the lad think he doesn't deserve to be loved. That's just too terrible a sentiment coming from someone so young.

"Where Gabriel spends his love is up to him," she says at last. "It doesn't matter if you think you're worth it or not; if he thinks you are, then..." she flaps a hand, "there you have it."

His eyes are still firmly downcast, so she reaches back through the brambles and tips up his chin until she can look at him properly - until he can see her, and see that she's serious. "Do you want him?" she asks bluntly.

He's startled by the touch; his instinct is to flinch from it, but he can't, and it's just as well. He meets her eyes, and he's so taken aback by the intensity of her look, the matter-of-fact air, like she knows best and he ought to listen. It's such a straightforward, simple question, there's no way to give a wrong answer.

"Yes," he whispers, tears welling up again, goddammit. "I really, really do."

That hasn't anywhere near solved the issue, but it's as clear as he's been since it happened. He misses Gabriel like crazy, and it's going to hurt like hell to face him again, but it doesn't matter. He has to go back, see him again, before it's too late.

"Thank you," he says gingerly, feeling at once awkward and genuinely grateful.

Greta knows about wanting - things she shouldn't, and things she should. Where Gabriel falls on Johnny's map is beyond her, but maybe it's better to get the lad moving than to make sure he's on the right path. So she smiles at his answer, wry and understanding. "Then find him," she orders, brushing away the new tears with her thumb, "and get him." A beat. "Well, once you're out of this mess."

The thanks is a pleasant surprise, and her smile broadens. She cups his cheek for a moment, warm and fond, then withdraws her hand. "Would you like the rest of that muffin?"

"Greta!"

Meanwhile, the Balladeer is making absolutely no effort to be quiet as he tromps through the Ramble. He doesn't have an instrument on him for once; he's just wandering the woods alone. For lack of any other clues, he's basically just picked a random direction off the path and stuck to it. He'll know how to get back, he thinks, if he ever happens to find Greta.

And that's a big if. He's kept his phone out, and keeps checking it every now and then, but there's still no new messages. Probably for the best, considering how that conversation went, but...it'd be nice to hear something.

The sound of voices stops him short, and he pauses, listening for a moment before heading in that direction. "Greta?"

Well, that's unexpected. Greta whirls about until she's facing the direction she thinks the first call came from, correcting herself a little when she hears the second. Is... is that the Balladeer? "Hello?" she calls back, incredulous. "We're over here!" She takes a single step away from Johnny, then stops; she's not about to risk getting separated from him when she can't count on herself to find her way anywhere.

"Greta!"

The Balladeer calls out again, much more cheerfully, before striding in the direction of her voice. With long legs like his, it isn't long before he's there, pushing his way through some underbrush to walk into their little clearing. "Damn!" he says, greeting Greta with a smile. "I was not looking for you at all, I'm completely lost - oh, wow."

This last is directed towards Johnny, as he finally realizes the true extent of what Greta meant by 'stuck'.

The interruption is jarring, and he quickly ducks back like he wants to hide. This is good, right? Someone's coming to find them, that's good. He would have liked a few more minutes to collect himself but whatever.

But then it's... yeah. It's that guy.

"Oh," he says, managing to sound reasonably contemptuous in spite of his position. "So you deigned to show up."

For a few moments, all she can do is gape at the Balladeer until Johnny's voice jars her out of her little stupor. He'd said he wasn't coming - or had that not been him? But if it hadn't been him, then how on earth had he known where to look for them? And he looks pleased to have found them, despite his insistence that he wasn't even looking.

"Wh-" she starts before shutting her mouth and favoring the Balladeer with a deeply confused frown. She tries again. "You... you said you weren't...?" She trails off, flummoxed.

"I wasn't," the Balladeer continues to insist. He barely spares Johnny (angry Johnny) a glance, holding Greta's gaze earnestly. "And none of us are cursed! I mean, that's normal."

He nods towards Johnny, suspended in the brambles, and flashes him a rather less honest smile. "Great to see you again." Did that sound sarcastic? Good, he actually meant it for once. Because while their previous encounter was at least partially his own fault...yeah, no, there's a few hard feelings.

"Also..." He turns back to Greta, reaching for a few more truths to twist. "We've never met, my shirt is black, aaaand we are not in the woods right now. See, I'm fine, this is great." Judging from his tone and the strain evident in his face even as he smiles, he feels anything but fine.

"What the fuck," blurts Johnny, throwing a confused glance at Greta. "Is he always this weird?"

Cursed, though - just like Greta said. He frowns, peering back at the Balladeer. "What, so you're cursed to just be an asshole? Is that not something you've always had?"

So he's not in the best mood right now. It's been a weird day. Give him a break.

"Oh!" Greta's hands fly to her face as the truth of the matter finally strikes her, then drop as it subsequently sinks in. "Oh." He can't say what he really means, more like the opposite. Why didn't she catch on right away, instead of being short with him? Of course he's not normally like this - he's normally kind, which means he's probably been infuriating people all day, the poor man. "I'm... I'm so sorry!"

So, if she's understanding things correctly, he's not fine, and everything is terrible. Yes, that seems like a far more accurate assessment of the situation than what he actually said. She lays a comforting hand on the Balladeer's arm, then looks back at the mass of greenery that is Johnny. "I think his curse is that he's saying the opposite of what he really means. Is that right?" She turns back to the Balladeer, expecting a 'no' if she's correct.

"Bless your heart," the Balladeer tells Johnny cheerfully, without missing a beat. He's not really got a lot of patience left for this today either.

Greta's understanding buoys him up, at least. It was her opinion he'd really been concerned about; Johnny and he aren't exactly the best of friends anyway. "Nope!" he replies, patting the hand on his arm warmly. It's not exactly correct - he could probably say what he meant if he intended to lie about something - but it amounts to the same thing. He doesn't go around lying on a daily basis. "All the rifties are just fine. You should feel bad."

"You're cursed to say bullshit," Johnny rephrases, being willfully unhelpful. "You know I think this might be an improvement."

He's not going to complain if this guy can't sing his dark personal history just by looking at him. But Greta seems to like him, so he sighs and grumbles, "I'm sorry, okay, it's been a long day. I don't suppose you know how to get us out of here."

Now that the more pressing issue of what was going on with the Balladeer has been resolved, Greta can turn her attention to the strange animosity between him and Johnny. Since only one of them is in the position to give an understandable explanation, it's Johnny she turns to with a baffled, disapproving frown on her face. But the lad's already in the process of reluctantly backing down, so she just lets her frown linger on him for a moment before turning back to the Balladeer.

"I don't suppose you brought anything sharp?" she asks, a bit sheepishly. If she'd figured things out sooner, she could have told him what they needed before he got here. "I haven't had any luck leaving the Ramble, but maybe we could at least get Johnny out if we had something to cut the vines."

The Balladeer still looks a little disgruntled, but he isn't one to push the issue. "Okay. I don't know the way out," He points over his shoulder, back the way he came, "but I've got a ton of sharp things."

Seriously, if she'd mentioned it he would've stopped on the way and grabbed something, but he doesn't carry knives or other sharp implements regularly. What would he need one for? Still, he moves past Greta to start circling Johnny and his briar patch. "There's a ton of them. One of us can try to untangle him, and the other can pull?"

As nice as it would be to get out of these fucking brambles, Johnny finds himself marginally uncomfortable with the offer of help from someone he doesn't consider a friend. "I don't know if that's gonna work out well for any of us," he says hesitantly. He nods toward Greta's scraped up hands. "I don't want you getting hurt." (Is that the plural or the singular 'you' there? Does it matter.) "Any more than I want anyone trying to pull me out of here." He's cut up enough thank you.

"Anyway, look, if the rift is actually cursing us, like if you can't stop lying, I don't know that it's going to let me go. You should see if you can get her out of here." He's not wholly certain what Greta's affliction is, perhaps other than a failing sense of direction. This asshole seems like her and vice versa, so maybe they can help each other. And if this doesn't wear off someone can come back with shears.

"They're only brambles," Greta says, hands akimbo. Is he really asking them to not even try? "And they don't seem inclined to, er, come after anyone else, so we should be able to handle them without getting bound up."

Whether she could get out of here or not comes second. She, at least, isn't rooted to one spot and in constant discomfort. Fixing Johnny with a stern look, she adds, "I'm not just abandoning you here, and I don't mind a few more cuts and scrapes if it gets you out." To illustrate her point, she resumes plucking and tugging at the outermost layer of tangled vines, her lips pressed together in a determined line.

"Are they really that bad?" The Balladeer agrees with Greta that they should be able to get Johnny out of there. He isn't that wrapped up. Johnny isn't exactly his favorite person in the city, but Greta seems to like him, so they can't just abandon him here. Were they alone...well, that'd be a little different, but he thinks he probably wouldn't ditch him then either.

As Greta goes after the vines, he steps forward as well, watching her work for a moment before circling to pluck at another likely-looking snare. "We won't even try. If it works, we can stay here and not go get some tools." He figures it won't take too long to see if this is going to work out or not. From there, they can either get him out altogether or get out of these woods already and try to regroup. If nothing else, someone's going to have to bring him some food and water if these curses really DO last a few days.

There's a lot happening here. Greta's not willing to abandon him, that's - that's something, he's not sure what, touching, maybe? But he wouldn't think of it that way anyway. She'd be taking care of herself. Leaving behind something that shouldn't be poked at. That thing he never did. People should trust him when he tells them to leave something alone.

And speaking of, this other guy, Johnny had sure fucking hoped never to see him again. He'd never be so lucky. He doesn't want that guy anywhere near him, especially not when he's with someone else. Greta already knows too much about him, and this guy is like a ticking time bomb of knowing shit he shouldn't.

Come to that, would sending the two of them off alone really be a good idea? He could tell her anything and Johnny wouldn't be able to stop him.

Meanwhile he's still being infuriatingly helpful and friendly. This would be so much easier if he would just be an asshole.

Johnny winces, sucking air through his teeth as one of them pulls something that ends up tightening the loop around one of his arms. He gasps softly as the thorns dig back into his flesh. "Okay not helping," he says somewhat raggedly. "Seriously, Greta, I don't know if this is gonna work."

Greta stills when Johnny hisses in pain. Maybe it's just a result of the Balladeer's efforts, but she could swear she actually sees the vines resettle themselves more snugly around their victim. She drops her hands with a huff of frustration. They're getting nowhere, at least like this.

"I'm sorry," she says, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face. "Maybe if we had scissors or something, at least we wouldn't be making things worse."

She turns to the Balladeer, wondering how much she can fairly ask of him. It seems he and Johnny know one another, and it doesn't seem as if they're exactly friends. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to go get something? We could, er," she flounders a moment, arms gesturing vaguely as she tries to come up with a plan that will make everyone happy. "What if you did try to get me out of here? Then we could both bring back things for Johnny if it works, and if it doesn't, you can get something sharp and some water or something, and I'll just try to find my way back to this spot."

That seems reasonable enough. The two of them could carry more than just one of them, and if anyone wouldn't mind leading her out of here by the hand without it being uncomfortable, it's the Balladeer. And either way, she's going to end up back here - she won't just leave Johnny to his own devices.

As soon as Greta stops her efforts, the Balladeer does as well, stepping back to eye the vines - and Johnny. He's not at all willing to leave this guy alone with Greta. Sure, they've apparently been alone together all day without any issues, but he's also been strung up in thorns. What if he happens to get down?

"That's a terrible idea," he says agreeably as she changes her plan. Good; he needs to talk to her about this anyway. The leaves crunch beneath his feet as he circles back around to Johnny's front, offering her a hand and nodding his head in the direction out. "Not worth trying at all."

Johnny shoots him a look. Suddenly he wishes he hadn't suggested this at all. He has a very bad fucking feeling in the pit of his stomach that if Greta goes off with this guy she's going to be learning a little too much about him. She's seen it firsthand, of course. What she knows is almost just as bad - but it's different. She's different.

But what can he say? He doesn't want to expose any of it in front of her. She seems to trust this asshole, and anyway she can probably take care of herself.

"Good luck," he says weakly, nodding his head toward them.

"We'll be back," she promises Johnny, pressing her lips together in a determined expression that doesn't quite qualify as a smile. For all that he initially suggested that the two of them try leaving, he doesn't seem too pleased by the idea, now. She can't say she blames him - goodness knows she wouldn't like being left alone like this - but it is, unfortunately, the best idea they have.

Well, best to get it over with. She takes the Balladeer's hand and lets him lead her out of the clearing. "Having someone drag me out by the hand is the only thing I haven't tried," she says, keeping her tone conversational in the hopes of lending Johnny some courage for as long as he can still hear her. "If I stick to the path, I just end up going in circles, and if I try to follow someone, they vanish right before my eyes. I tried just picking a direction and walking straight, but I think I covered more ground than I should have been able to, and that's when I stumbled across Johnny."

"Yeah?" The Balladeer doesn't look back to bid Johnny farewell, but he does dart a concerned glance at Greta. That must have been scary for her, to get so turned around in what is really not a huge piece of forest. Luckily he's got a good enough sense of direction; he's confident in how to get out himself.

That's an interesting curse though. Almost labyrinthine, and the thought that Johnny's here at the heart of it gives him a chill. He still doesn't entirely understand what he heard from that man, but he has fragments of dark hallways and spiral staircases, of mazes and ink. "How'd you end up here in the first place?" he asks, careful to keep his tone light. He wants to put more distance between them all before he tries to warn her about Johnny.

Greta glances up at him, a bit thrown for a moment by how sensible his questions sound as opposed to everything else he's been saying. Maybe his curse doesn't apply to questions. That makes more sense than the thought of him being deliberately disinterested in what happened to her, and she's definitely done assuming the worst of him.

"I just walked out of my apartment like... well, like I was under a spell," she admits with an embarrassed flap of her free hand. "Didn't think to bring my phone or anything but a little food. I don't even have my keys. I just... it felt very important that I go to the woods, and once I was here, I couldn't leave." She doesn't bother speaking of older curses or necessary journeys into the Woods. It doesn't matter now. There's no potion that will get her out of this mess.

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