psychoshenanigans | Skeleton City // PSL

"How do you know when?" a surprisingly-lucid-sounding Phalanx turns to ask in Vincent's direction. With all this fixating on the here and now, their features are beginning to shift away from blank monochrome as well.

"Are you tired? Do... we go too?"

Upon being addressed so directly, Vincent instinctively turns his head to meet their eyes--or where he assumes their eyes must be, relative to where he assumes their mouth is. He almost wishes he hadn't, though, now expected to answer this bizarre series of questions.

Robin says nothing, smiling tightly to hide a laugh, far more interested in hearing what Vincent comes up with in response.

"Uh..." He stalls, torn between a smart-ass answer and a genuine response, "Yeah? I'm tired...?"

He does not sound very sure of himself, until this last part, "You guys should stay out here."

Phalanx slowly nods--which is of no use at all to Vincent--also seeming unsure about this.

And then Phalanx swivels around to look at Robin, seeming expectant. Whether because their questions weren't entirely answered, or they want some verification for the answers, they're waiting to see what Robin has to say next.

Robin considers poking fun at Vincent (it's so easy) for not wanting two cute boys in bed with him... But the man has been incredibly accommodating this evening, and the only other person who would hear may not appreciate the humor in making Vincent uncomfortable.

So he shrugs up his shoulders, nodding to admit the truth.

"Vincent is right. Let's let him have his room to himself."

They did already crash in it earlier today. And who knows--maybe in the dead of night, Robin will change his mind. Things happen. Bed plans change.

"But he's..." Phalanx begins, but it almost seems as though they hadn't actually meant to make words happen, because they trail off before they go anywhere.

If they'd been a creature with any amount of social awareness at all, they might have been intentionally catching themselves, but that's a low possibility in this case. Phalanx doesn't even think to move over so Vincent can easily get off of the couch, let alone probably think about the words they may or may not be saying.

"...But he's what?" Vincent asks flatly, narrowing his not-eyes.

Now it's Robin's turn to watch Phalanx, eyebrows raised a little, wondering what his new collection of friends could possibly have to say in response.

And Phalanx looks at Robin...!

Because it takes them a second to realize who Vincent is actually talking to. And when that finally registered, they're visibly confused.

"But he's... what?"

Robin's snickering is enough to get an annoyed "look" from Vincent, who adds, "What do you think is so funny, huh?"

"Nothing, nothing...!" Robin waves a hand in the air before gathering Phalanx back up, attempting to pull them up a little more snugly against his chest. Perhaps it is a cue to end the conversation, or perhaps it is simply Robin trying to move poor Phalanx out of the way.

"I'm sure that Phalanx is just happy to have a new friend here, that's all."

"Uh-huh," Vincent gives a good dead-eyed stare right at Robin's stupid, cheerful face, "Well I hope my old friend ain't gonna get up to any trouble while I'm asleep."

Robin just laughs, petting Phalanx's hair again, dipping his face down to check on the color of their eyes, "No, I think you and I will be just fine out here. Right, Phalanx?"

Their eyes are green, and they're searching Robin's face right back, carefully parroting, agreeing-- "Just fine. Out here."

Maybe Phalanx is starting to catch on to the fact that they really do need to gather and check themselves out here in the real world again, because they even clumsily pull their feet closer to their own body and reclaim the hand that they'd long ago forgotten on Vincent's leg, like a good physical and social being.

Vincent is free, if he's fast.

Vincent does take the opportunity to stand up, accompanied by the creaking of floorboards (or possibly his knees) as he returns to being a good foot and a half taller than anyone has any right to be.

But he doesn't flee the scene immediately. He leans over, feels around for the mound of blankets that is Phalanx, and then deftly tucks them into the couch. He gets Robin, too, tugging a loose blanket over and vengefully stuffing the corner of it between the cushions--causing Robin, in his surprise, to giggle like a six-year-old.

"Goodnight, kids." Vincent states, "Have good dreams or whatever."

It's hard to tell if he's annoyed or amused. Maybe a little of both.

Being entombed together in one cocoon only enhances the creepy-twin effect as Phalanx again mimics Robin's giggle. And maybe also some of his sass, because the "Have good dreams. Or whatever," that Phalanx answers with sounds almost a little too intentional.

Now sass--as big a pain as it can be--is something that Vincent understands. To him, it's a sign of normalcy. And Robin is almost acting normal too, laughing like a human and stooping to being smushed into a couch. Because of all of this, Phalanx may even catch Vincent actually starting to smile a little as he walks away from the couch, presumably to head to his room and sleep off his weird, weird night.

Robin sighs happily, settling back a little more, and embracing his newly-tucked-in situation.

There are smiles all around, so Phalanx continues to join in. They still have green eyes and an easy grin when Vincent finally disappears, turning back to Robin and settling down into happy, dead weight just as easily as before.

Things are simple right now, easy to follow. For something that is supposedly a crowded hive of homeless spirits, they're oozing contentment right now.

That's something that he and Robin definitely have in common. Busy minds, busy spirits--maybe they just appreciate the value of a comfortable place to rest, and a person next to them to anchor them to the world while they dream.

"I suppose we'll learn more about you tomorrow, friend..."

He winds a hand through the blankets, making just enough room to run his fingers through Phalanx's hair, something to do over and over as sleep slowly starts settling in around them.

Aside from the occasional muttering, Phalanx stays rooted in one spot while they sleep, putting in a full, solid night of rest--which, unbeknownst to their new friends, is actually quite a feat. Wrapped up and latched onto something real and kind does them a lot of good. Their poor, buzzing brain will appreciate it in the morning.

Unfortunately, Robin doesn't share all of that peace. Having a warm body right there keeps his own nightmares at bay as it usually does... but maybe Phalanx is just a little too empty to be a perfect comfort during the night. It almost feels like something else gets in.

Whatever the reason, at some point, there is the awareness that comes with a dawning dream... but there is nothing there to see. Only wandering, meaningless thoughts and a whole lot of darkness. It's not bad, at first. There is no need for speaking or breathing or anything else, so it just simply is.

However, all at once, the darkness begins to itch. Like the onslaught of a million carnivorous worms, it needs to be scratched at, dug at. In one random instant, the peace evaporates and there is just an entire world's worth of impossible, choking, crushing weight that needs to be clawed away. All at once, this fact is simply and brutally all that exists.

He was buried alive, once. Well, he was buried while dead, technically. No one thought he would come back to life. But he did, and being under the ground surrounded by darkness and crushed on all sides by six feet of earth was enough to give him bad dreams for a long time.

But that was something. That was rough dirt and suffocating and he was still aware of his limbs. This is something that goes on for an eternity, nothing and everything, and he will never be able to dig himself out, no matter how much he tears at it. It will eat him forever. It will eat, and eat, and eat, and eat--

Robin wakes in the middle of his own fitful thrashing, halfway tangled in blankets, gasping like he hasn't breathed in minutes. He anxiously shoves everything away from himself, confused about why his clothes are still on, when he shoves into a heavy body and suddenly remembers that he's on Vincent's couch in Vincent's apartment, and that he had fallen asleep next to...

He looks over, suddenly hoping that it is Phalanx, paranoia already turning them into a dozen other far-worse things in his mind.

It does happen to be Phalanx, but they're not waking up very quickly--or, at least not with any agile amount of sense as they're shoved and thrashed at. So, there is nothing to notice or help when all of their dead weight moves back from the demigod... and starts to pour over the edge of the couch.

Depending on how many limbs Robin has free and how much the two of them are still wrapped together in death-shrouds, one or both of them may be in for a surprise.

Robin crashes fully back into reality--rather literally, since the world finally comes into crystal-clear focus as Phalanx slips off the couch, yanking Robin forward by some combination of tangled limbs and tightly-wrapped blankets. His rattled nerves keep him from toppling straight into the ghost pile, but only barely, as he half-rolls, half-bounces onto his back after hitting the floor.

"Wha..." One of his legs is somehow still up on the couch, one arm pinned under his back, he rocks onto his side to see the rest of what's going on, "Tega, you okay...?"

Phalanx looks pretty stunned by all of reality, honestly. No hood to hide their face, only mostly dressed, half-tangled in blankets, they look around at the room and at their own body like they cannot for the life of them understand what is happening.

When Phalanx finally finds Robin's face, they just kind of settle there and stare. Remembering where their own legs end and blankets begin is difficult enough as it is--and right now, they might not even be all the way awake.

"Oh... Shit..."

Robin is now very awake, still jittery and finally realizing the extent of the mess he's made. Now that he's here in the physical world, he untangles himself from the mess of blankets and immediately sets about scooping Phalanx up into a more sensible pile in his arms.

"Sorry, sorry..."

He's trying to keep his voice down. Vincent is in the other room. He doesn't consciously know why he doesn't want Vincent to hear him (Vincent knows he has bad dreams), but he does it anyway.

"--Sorry..." Phalanx begins to echo, even more hushed, as they leech off of Robin's agitation and follow his lead. They try to help with the gathering process, sluggishly kicking at the blanket lassoing their legs together.

"Sorry... sorry."

"No, no, it's okay, I just..."

He isn't doing a great job of calming down. He tries to help free Phalanx's legs, tugging away at layers, but realizes halfway through that he has no idea why. Shouldn't he be telling Phalanx to just go back to sleep, rather than peeling them out of their protective shell?

"I had a bad dream..."

Because it feels like they're still in there, a little, surrounding him and crushing him. The echo of a thing that's fading faster than he can remember it. Why was he being crushed? Buried? After the nothingness?

When does he ever dream about nothingness?

Yeah, Robin is peeling his ghosty friend out of their layers, and they don't even really have pants on underneath there. As soon as Phalanx's bare legs are free, they start protectively curling up again while the rest of the creature catches up. Managing to halfway prop themselves up, they hook their arms on the couch like its a floating piece of flotsam.

"A bad dream?" Phalanx frowns, though it could be in reaction to any part of this, really.

"A bad... Wait..."

He doesn't remember. Something about digging, clawing, but where was everyone?

He was so alone. And he's never alone. Not really.

What is he even thinking...? He looks up at Phalanx, gripping the couch, looking just as anxious and disheveled as he feels. He can't help but see himself, nearly a mirror image, frowning at something he doesn't fully understand, curling away, confused, a little scared.

He's a little scared. He wants to go see Vincent, suddenly, know that he isn't alone. Maybe they'll go wake him up.

Yeah, they'll wake him up. "Phalanx, Phalanx, wait--" He reaches out, takes them by the shoulder, presses his forehead against theirs out of habit. He doesn't go into their mind this time, doesn't look around, doesn't want a thing to do with it for fear of what he might see reflected there--but he tells them, nice and quiet, calming down now that he has some direction to follow, 'We're going to go get Vincent.'

Phalanx flinches out of habit (the last time that forehead came ducking in had turned out really bad, okay) but doesn't go too far. They're still too disoriented to really dodge, so the message is received... and automatically mumbled out, as if the thought had been their own to begin with.

"We're... going to go get Vincent."

And, just as it should, their attention crosses the room to fix on the door between them and Vincent. They know where they're going. They're all on the same page now.

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