psychoshenanigans | Skeleton City // PSL

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.

Robin can spend the rest of the night without being crushed by darkness, and Vincent can enjoy the claustrophobic warmth of two bodies (and an extra blanket) penning him in on either side. Phalanx even manages to defy the odds and spend a handful more hours in peace, before their luck finally runs out.

Although, Phalanx's bedmates probably count as the unlucky ones, as Phalanx themself sleeps through most of their own restlessness.

When the quiet finally ends, it's only a few sounds at a time--only some of them words--and it's quiet. In the early morning, still an hour or so before the grid wakes up again, Phalanx starts mumbling. And then they start moving. Legs stretch out, an arm kicks a minute or so after that, and some question gets asked into a muffling mound of blankets.

Robin has not followed any kind of sane sleep schedule for a long time, but Vincent is an early riser. He's also much quicker to rise than his immortal friend, dragged to awareness as someone wiggles and shoves right behind him.

He pulls one of his arms up, intent on reaching around and telling his friend to shut up and stop kicking--but he stops when his hand hits what is clearly a warm body in front of him. He knows it's Robin, just from quickly patting his back and his stupid hair--so who in all of the Kingdoms of the Gods is behind him?

He sits up, suddenly, dragging some of the blankets with him. He squints down, even though it doesn't help him see any better than closing his eyes would.

"--What the fuck?"

There's still a foreign blanket partially wadded up under the covers, and it rolls around as the comfy nest is pulled apart from around the intruder.

"I did." Phalanx paws the blanket back so that their weird, delicate voice can find open air, and they blink slowly up at the ceiling, but they can't actually be considered awake yet. "--I did not."

"Huh?" Vincent says, stupidly. "What... the fuck..."

Phalanx might wake up a little faster as Vincent starts to feel around for their face, scooting away from stray limbs only to bump into the still-sleeping corpse of a person behind him.

"You're... What are you doing in here?" He twists around, towards Robin, "What are either of you doing in here? How did you..."

"We had to dig out...?" Phalanx offers--which would have made sense to Robin, but poor Vincent will just have to fend for himself. And the ghosts still sound confused and half-asleep, so it probably means nothing.

They're starting to catch on to one fact, though. The message that they are currently somewhere that they're not supposed to be is at least beginning to get through, so Phalanx continues to roll away. Scooting back from Vincent, they head for the edge of the bed so they can go... somewhere else.

"What?"

He's starting to see what's happened here--duped again, and this time Robin used an innocent bystander to get away with it! Is there no low that the immortal bastard would not sink to? But that doesn't explain...

"Why are you dressed?" He asks Robin, feeling around... But Phalanx's quiet escape is quickly halted when a giant hand reaches over and deftly grabs the back of their exoskeletal mound of blankets. He tugs them backwards, anchoring them to the spot.

"Oh no you don't." And then he turns his gigantic torso around enough to actually talk at Robin, shaking him in the shoulder. "Wake up, asshole! What the fuck are you doing in here?"

Phalanx makes a pathetic sound when they're snagged--half surprised yelp and half guilty whine--but they stay put without a struggle after that.

Waking up is difficult, but making sense is an even more daunting task right now. Whether they're trying to speak to someone in the room, or it's just a symptom of Phalanx being Phalanx, they start making words.

"At home, not in a home... at home... not home...home--"

"Hey, hey, hey..." Vincent starts back at Phalanx, warning at first, but quickly easing off his authoritative tone as he realizes all this yelling is probably just winding them up more. "Hey, stop that. You're okay, kid."

After a second, he hesitantly tries, "Kids?"

But that sounds stupid, and he regrets it almost instantly. Meanwhile, Robin finally makes noises that resemble awareness, stretching one of his arms out and grumbling some question about what time it is.

"Some... some of them."

It seems to be more-or-less in response to Vincent, and Phalanx does stop winding up and uselessly spinning their mental gears. So, it's probably an answer? Vincent has their attention now, at the very least. They quiet right down.

And then, maybe because he also seems to be trying to keep them from wandering off... Phalanx starts climbing back into bed.

"Uh, okay." Vincent says. "Uh, sure. Yeah. Okay."

That one's on him, he supposes. He shoves Robin (none too friendly-like) over so that he'll have more room, and Phalanx can crawl back uninterrupted.

Robin, who has just been shoved, finally groans, "All right, all right. What're we yelling about?"

"Why the fuck are you in my room?" Vincent asks him, letting go of Phalanx. "This guy's saying something about digging or some shit?"

Unbeknownst to either of the other parties involved, Phalanx nods to confirm Vincent's statement. And then they shuffle back onto the bed, blanket and all, sidling up as close as Vincent will allow. Just going back to the place they'd been before--though, they do have the decency to seem hesitant about it, at least.

Now that he's conscious, Vincent blocks off at least part of himself by plunking his hand down on the mattress. Phalanx would have to somehow get through the man's tree-trunk of an arm to sidle up to his side. His legs, though, those are forfeit. You gotta win some to lose some.

"...Huh," Robin says, also sitting up, ruffling his hair back into place. He also straightens out his shirt, which had become disheveled with the events of the night. "I must have had a bad dream."

"What do you mean, you must have?" Indignant, Vincent asks, "The fuck are you saying? The fuck are any of you saying?"

"Mm," Robin ignores him, "Hey, where did Phalanx go?"

He leans over to look around the giant man in front of him, smiling a little when he spots that familiar white hair, "Ah, good morning."

Edited 2018-04-13 05:30 (UTC)

"Morning-morning," Phalanx answers in the same pleasant tone, while lumping up around Vincent's arm like a magnetic puddle. Phalanx's legs, of course, naturally gravitate toward Vincent's unprotected ones as well.

"Look, I told you..." The taller man sighs heavily, not charmed by their cute good-morning exchange, or Phalanx's puddling closer to him despite his arm in the way. "Stop sneaking in here. It's creepy, man. And I don't want you bringing your friends in either, you got that?"

"Phalanx, what do you say we go and find some breakfast?" Robin asks cheerily, clearly ignoring Vincent, "We can hit the town once the grid goes up."

"You're not listening to me," Vincent states, though it does no good. Robin pats Vincent on the shoulder, smiling wide.

"You can come too! Don't worry."

"I'm not..."

"It'll be fun!"

"It'll be--breakfast!"

The tone is a spot-on mimic of Robin's, even if the words are a little off. Phalanx is grinning where they're bundled up and still happily squirming, as if there is an intentional game being played back and forth around Vincent.

Which, there sort of is, but one of the participants has a very incomplete understanding of it. Phalanx knows enough to understand that they're having fun with Robin, and may even grasp the fact that it's at Vincent's expense, but would not be able to explain why or how.

It's fine, though. At least the appearance of fun is being had.

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