psychoshenanigans | Skeleton City // PSL

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.

Good, good. Exactly what he expected, with them being the same person and all.

With nothing more to say, he pulls one of the blankets back up towards Phalanx, giving them something to drape around their legs, before hoisting himself back up to his feet. He'll reach down to give Phalanx a hand up too, if he can, if Phalanx isn't already following on his own.

They're like a pair of weird, overgrown, monster kids. Phalanx grabs their blanket, hugs it close, then climbs up Robin's arm until they're properly on their feet. And like the younger and less-confident sibling in this imagined scenario, they stick close behind Robin for protection, and sort of hurry him forward so they can get somewhere safe more quickly.

And in this state, being followed feels more natural than being alone He's very used to having someone behind him--whether from the deeply-rooted days of his childhood, or the constant, looming feeling that one of his ghosts is watching the world over his shoulder.

Vincent's room does not have a doorknob. It maybe never had a doorknob--it just shoves into the frame and mostly stays there, with an empty hole where a knob once was. Robin grabs it, pulls it open with surprising stealth, and easily steps past the couple of feet it takes to get to Vincent's bed.

The man has long since fallen asleep, oblivious under his own mismatched pile of blankets. Robin creeps up onto the bed, crawling up to him, reaching out to shake the man's shoulder.

"Hey, Vincent..." Robin whispers. Vincent shifts with a questioning, irritated grunt.

"Listen, I had a dream..." Robin goes on, reaching back to keep a hold of Phalanx, taking an arm or a hand protectively. "...There was a lot of bad things, and I think I was buried, and there was scratching that went on and on, and..."

Vincent grumbles again, lifting the blankets up, maybe hoping it'll shut Robin up long enough for him to go back to sleeping. Like a giant bird lifting its wing, in a funny sort of way. Robin leans back and gives Phalanx a little nudge, nodding for them to go first.

By this point, Vincent probably has this whole routine down to mostly-sleeping muscle memory. However, the person who normally sneaks into the blankets at this point is probably much more dexterous and unobtrusive than Phalanx is. And they're probably not also wrapped up in a whole other blanket that they're clumsily trying to bring with them.

Whatever his first clue might be, the person invading his sleeping space now is definitely not Robin.

It's a good thing that Vincent can't see. Had he opened his eyes, he may have caught an unfamiliar face and actually protested to some stranger getting into bed with him--but as it is, he doesn't bother looking, instead becoming impatient in his waning moments of consciousness and deciding to roll over rather than wait for someone to get comfortable.

But Robin thinks that's perfect. He waits, perched like a hawk on the edge of the bed, even leaning over to subtly lift up the blankets in Vincent's place--just to give Phalanx a little help.

He'll wait, just for a minute. He knows that too much chaos will wake Vincent up, and he doesn't want to chance it yet.

Luckily, once Phalanx stops moving, they're the most unobtrusive body there can possibly be. Even their weird, semi-haunted aura settles down when it's time to burrow and hide.

A warm body snuggles up close behind Vincent and just turns into happy, comfy, dead weight. Like a big ragdoll.

And Vincent, despite his indecipherable grumbling about being snuggled up to, disappears into peaceful, deep breathing almost as quickly as the whole interruption had started. Robin waits a couple of moments, fending off the psychological chill still crawling down his neck just long enough to be completely, resoundingly sure.

And then he crawls over to Vincent's other side, slipping in close and under the blankets with nary a disturbance. Vincent even moves his arm for Robing to get in.

The difference is like night and day. With someone at his back, the pangs of anxiety winding out of Robin vanish and are quickly replaced with a heavy cloud of sleep. No more nightmares, hopefully, for the rest of the subterranean night.

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