psychoshenanigans | Skeleton City // PSL

"Really?"

No parroting, this time. Only surprise, as they mindlessly let themselves be led down more comfortably on the bed. They follow and settle like they already live here.

It's probably because they're focused much more on Robin's statement than whatever space their body is occupying.

"That's why?" Obviously taking this one very literally.

"Maybe," he says, "That's what people say."

Finally, with them both settling down and a path laid before him, he can stop worrying about magic and monsters and just look at the person in front of him. For a collection of souls in a human shell, they're pretty attractive.

But not too attractive, and that's what's interesting about them. They aren't colorful enough to stick out in a crowd, aren't masculine or feminine enough to make any statements. By coincidence or by design, they at least won't be pulling people's gazes along wherever they go.

They have nice hands, though. Robin brings one of theirs up towards his face, to play with their fingers and fidget with the shape of their knuckles. He still has his gloves on, but that may not be true for long.

"You aren't the only strange thing down here, whatever the case."

And being so wrapped up in layers of greying fabric helps that whole 'some amorphous individual' effect. It's as if someone had taken a person with a life and history and vast, human personality and washed them until the color was bleached away. Like a bone eaten by wind and sun, only the porous structure of an individual was left... then filled up by things hungry for a home, and wrapped up to hide the evidence.

They do have nice hands, though. Cloth wraps up all the way to the base of their fingers, but there's still enough left uncovered to enjoy. Pale like a ghost, but without the prominent veins that tend to stand out in skin like that. There's one big flinch initially, but Phalanx lets Robin keep the whole limb after that, as if they just unplugged it from the rest of the collective.

"I know. Monsters." The fingers on Phalanx's free hand suddenly spread out as far as they can go, and motion at nothing in the air nearby. "Lots of them."

Like doll hands. Like porcelain. He looks up over the captured hand at Phalanx moves, though, gazing out past that extended hand as they bring up the things living below. And around. And maybe above (some days, he isn't sure).

But everyone knows about monsters, so he's not surprised that Phalanx is mentioning them.

"Yeah, but monsters aren't that complicated. Just hungry." He knows Monsters very well. The thought gets him to abandon Phalanx's hand in favor of finally peeling the gloves off of one of his own. With a glance up towards their dark, colorless eyes, he asks, "Have you seen any of them?"

Phalanx's eyes flick over to meet Robin's as soon as he looks their way. With irises that big and that flat, their eyes always look open a little wider than they should be. Somewhere between innocent and unstable.

"I'm not hungry," Phalanx insists.

He laughs again. It's a funny sound, now that they've heard it a couple of times. It almost sounds like a part of his laugh is missing, though he does it anyway.

"I believe you," he assures them, bringing his now un-gloved hand up to rest on the side of their covered head. "You're much too smart to be a monster."

It'll be hard to tell if Phalanx notices anything truly strange about Robin or his behaviors, until they maybe start mimicking him at some point down the line. Until then, Phalanx just watches and absorbs, nodding a little absently until Robin's hand comes to rest against the side of their head.

"Too smart to be a monster. Too smart... to be hungry?"

Or something like that?

"Too smart to be hungry for human flesh," he clarifies, his smile edging back into a mischievous little grin, "That's all that they're ever hungry for. And it makes them stupid."

That's what the stories say, anyway. Robin hasn't really found any evidence to the contrary, and he's slept with some of them. If anyone could be considered an expert in what is and isn't a monster, it would probably be him.

"You seem to have a lot more... dimension than that."

"Dimension. Like... space."

It's a demonstration that they understand the term, but Phalanx apparently isn't a fan of it. Their normally blank, doll-like face crinkles up in a surprisingly expressive look of distaste.

"Maybe I have more."

Mm, so that's something they don't like. Robin tilts his head up, against the sheets of the bed, considering that look with interest... But after a couple of seconds, he lifts his hand to tug gently at the edge of Phalanx's hood, pulling it further over their face.

"Then we'll just make sure you're kept nice and snug. Right?"

He tugs on their wrappings, next, and then decides to just pull some more of the blankets over to wrap them up even more.

Edited 2017-09-25 03:34 (UTC)

With all of Phalanx's vague answers and ambivalent reactions, this gets the most animated reaction, by far. As soon as everything starts snugging tighter and safer, the creature leans into the cocoon as if this is their only love in they whole world.

They smile and burrow and hum. And they help too--wrapping hands up into sleeves until they almost disappear, and use the solidity of Robin's body to act as one secure wall for their new nest.

He laughs again, this time out of surprise. It's not like snuggling up to someone is a foreign concept to him, but rarely is it done with such an innocent glee. He soaks it up like soil soaking up water, gathering up the new bundle and settling back against it so as to be as comfortable as possible.

It's a wonderful diversion. A very calming feeling, being liked, even if it's just for his ability to grab blankets with his human thumbs.

After a happy little hum, he just adds, "This is nice."

Edited 2017-09-25 04:09 (UTC)

"This is nice," Phalanx parrots, though they don't mimic Robin's tone. Theirs is a brighter, happy statement. Almost surprised.

"Nice, nice--" And then their face burrows down into whatever comfy thing is nearest.

This reminds him of when he was much smaller, when he and the other children would bundle up together to keep warm. Those are some of his fondest memories, so much so that even the faint recollection does a lot to sooth his otherwise tightly-wound mind.

And the absence of tension is more than enough to make him sleepy. Perhaps with his thoughts finally quiet, his body rushes in to get whatever real rest it can manage before the magical moment is over.

"Mm," he closes his eyes, talking somewhere near the top of Phalanx's buried head. "I might just fall asleep here."

It smells like Vincent in here. He wonders how long it'll be until he comes home...

"Me too," Phalanx murmurs in the same sleepy tone. Whether Robin's contentment is contagious to a creature with such a porous nature, or Phalanx was already heading that way themself, they're there now. Swaddled in a snug cocoon like this, the constant echoes and rattles gradually begin to quiet down.

Before they get too sleepy however, Phalanx quickly looks up and searches for Robin's face, to double-check.

"...Me too?"

Robin cracks an eye open to peer back up at Phalanx, surprised before he smiles again.

"Yes, you too."

Sure, it's not his bed to offer to people--but he imagines that if Vincent knew what a strange, lost, confused little person this was, he would begrudgingly offer them a place to stay anyway. It will all work out. Keeping this newfound curiosity close to him is far more important than not pissing off his friend for an evening.

Besides, that happens every other week. Something new? He's lucky to get that once a century.

That's all that Phalanx needs to know. And once they're as sure as they can be that they are both contained and safe, it doesn't take long before all the little lights can be shut off upstairs.

It takes a lot of energy to run a body full of ghosts, and rest isn't something they come by easily. So, in all likelihood, Robin (or Vincent) will have to be the one to disturb the peace again first.

This part of the city is not especially quiet, especially during the middle of the day... but Vincent lives on the sixth floor of an old building with boarded-up windows, so the sounds are more of an amalgam of echoes and white noise by the time any of it makes it into the room.

Like waves on a beach. Live there long enough, and you won't even notice anymore.

The two of them sleep peacefully and uneventfully in this metaphorical ocean, until suddenly brought back to waking by a gruff voice, "--What the fuck."

If Phalanx can wake up that quickly, they'll also feel a shift in the bed next to them as Robin gets excited. "Vince...! You'll never believe what I found..."

Waves of nonsense noise against the soft beach sand describes how Phalanx receives many sounds, so the ambiance here is downright soothing. The spirits are in a deep state of rest by the time that a commotion finally drums up around them.

It's confusing, at first. If ghosts can dream, it apparently takes them longer to pull out of it than might be expected. The first words are mumbled and caught by blankets. Then, as Robin shifts around, Phalanx follows suit, moving enough that they can speak out from underneath their hood.

"--No, put it back."

The thing that made the second voice seems surprised (but not that surprised) when something speaks from the inside of the blankets.

"Please don't tell me it's a prostitute," the (probably a) man says.

"No, no. Don't be ridiculous..." Robin does not seem phased, scooting over close to the bundle of Phalanx and starting to dig into the pile with a hand, maybe just searching for any part of it that isn't made of blankets, "You know how I found the noble girl?"

"Yeah," he replies, flatly.

"And that assassin?"

"Yeah," he replies, flatter.

"And the one with the spikes?"

"Yeah," he replies, irritable, "Don't tell me that this is just what you do now."

"Well, I thought I was done, and then I found someone very interesting getting into trouble in the marketplace..."

As he says this, he finally pulls the blankets apart enough to at least expose some of his new friend's face to the open air, as if to show whoever has come into the room.

Voices are pleasantly bouncing back and forth outside of the blankets, and by the mumbles that follow each round like a sleepy echo, Phalanx is also taking part in the conversation. At least, they think they are.

It isn't until Robin fishes in and finds a hand, then peels back Phalanx's hood and protective layers of blankets to let the light in, that they truly begin to join the conscious realm.

"--the marketplace. Marketplace... I was shopping," Phalanx says as their strange eyes squint and blink at nothing, pretending to be more awake than they really are.

"Oh," the man says, before very suddenly saying nothing.

It seemed like he was going to, like he'd just gotten an idea or come to a realization, but now he stands quietly, a very tall stranger who only fits in the room because this apartment, this building, this whole city block is just the petrified remains of a much older time, when people were generally taller and some things weren't made out of stone.

But truly, this man is broad and towering like no one they have seen down in the Underground yet. He's got brown hair like Phalanx had, a few hours ago, but it's scruffier and falls over his eyes. His gaze is not directed at the stranger, or at Robin, but rather at some undefined point up near the corner of a boarded-up window.

Robin continues chattering like nothing happened, and like Vincent hasn't started smelling the air in the room as if there were something in particular he was trying to pick up on.

"They're special. Really talented. And listen, I'm going to set them up somewhere downstairs, but until then, they'll need a place to stay..."

"Not here," Vincent interjects, quickly turning his focus back on Robin, "Forget it."

"Aw, Vince...!"

Robin is cut short by the man extending an absurdly long arm, grabbing the front of the man's shirt, and dragging him over to hold him up until his pretty heeled shoes are hanging a good foot away from the ground. It looks effortless, he doesn't even turn his head to look as he says: "Don't fucking start. Get out of my Gods-damned room."

Robin giggles a little, wiggling his feet. He can't help the spread of a shit-eating grin. "Vince, listen..."

"Get out of my fucking bed," Vincent's indignation doubles as it finally occurs to him just how invasive this is, "What the fuck is wrong with--"

"Vince."

And then Robin starts whispering something, and Vincent--though irritable--drags his friend over to be closer to his ear. For a moment, it seems like the two of them have almost forgotten that Phalanx is even there.

Phalanx's body flattening down against the bed like a startled animal is what gets the creature to really wake up. That big arm swooping in to drag their new friend away definitely does the trick. They stay quiet and still, like they could maybe become invisible right there in the middle of the bed, having no idea that the effort is not exactly needed...

And the fact that there are mixed signals coming from the two men's words and voices and body-language does nothing to reassure Phalanx that they aren't actually in trouble. When the tall man (the giant man) says to get out of his bed, Phalanx starts to scoot slowly backward, toward the opposite edge of the mattress.

"Sorry... sorry..."

At the tail end of his whispering, Robin trails off, his eyes catching and following the cowering creature... Though his flickering smirk grows steady as he continues hanging, his arms slack and his tone close to mocking.

"Oh, look. You've gone and scared him, Vincent."

Lifting his head just the slightest amount, his expression turns to surprise. "No, I..." The rest of his sentence gets caught, he wrestles with something, a lot quieter now, "But I can't just..."

Whatever it is he can't do, it doesn't seem to matter much--because his shoulders slowly sink, and Robin gets lowered to the floor along with them.

Vincent finally talks awkwardly at Phalanx, raising a hand uselessly, "Hey, I'm sorry, don't--"

Robin, possessing far more people skills, simply rolls his own shoulders and crawls back onto the bed, following until he can put an arm calmly around Phalanx's shoulders.

"It's okay, friend. He's not actually mad."

(Even if a tense sigh from Vincent might suggest otherwise.)

Yeah, Phalanx hears that sigh and is picking up on the differing demeanors between the two men. Unlike many of their other expressions, the current look of caution and skepticism is pretty clear on Phalanx's face, glancing between the other two.

"Are we...?"

And that's as far as the poor confused creature gets before shrugging into the tangle of cloak and blankets they're still caught up in and giving up on words. Usually this is the part where someone kicks them out of the building or calls them names and informs them of what kind of monster they are. So, Phalanx leaves the air open for one of the two men to fill it with whatever is going to happen next.

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