psychoshenanigans | 13th Cycle // Continued Thread

[Well, a lot like the last time, hearing a sigh is a lot better than being punched. Vincent will take that as a good sign.

He kneels down at the edge of the bed (with a grimace, but he gets there), trying his best to be unobtrusive. He doesn't have the power to dampen his presence like Irahl does, but he has a soft voice and a calm demeanor, and sometimes that works just as well.]

Hey, bud. How can I help...? [Irahl had shared that little music player with him when he was freaking out. Come to think of it, Vincent doesn't remember hearing him put those in like he normally does. Realizing this, he asks:] ...Where's your music thing? Is it with your other stuff?

[Irahl would love to tell Vincent that it's okay, he's got this, forget about it--anything. This is his struggle in response to Vincent's first question, until it is suddenly followed up with Vincent then giving him something extremely easy to answer and that he desperately wants.

It doesn't keep him from hating himself any less for it, however.]

--The box.

The box...

[Okay, that's probably... The box of stuff from the station. Maybe it's in the kitchen, or maybe it hasn't even left the back of Irahl's shuttle--but it's a concrete goal that he thinks he can handle.]

Got it. I'll get it. You sit tight for a few, okay?

[Not that Irahl seems like he could really get anywhere in a hurry. Vincent gives his arm a gentle touch (afraid to pat him in case he's secretly got a big bruise there), then stands back up to go search for that missing music player. He'll leave Irahl with a little time to himself, for better or for worse.]

[Yeah, Irahl gets both better and worse while Vincent is away. It's both.

On one hand, it's a relief to have room to be a little bit less okay, so he's better able to grapple with the strangling feeling wrapped around his chest. On the other hand, however, Vincent continuing to be bafflingly patient and kind makes the sucker-punch feeling in his chest get worse. The touch on his arm especially sinks him, right now.

Outwardly, Irahl doesn't to seem to have changed much by the time that Vincent returns. A little calmer, maybe.]

[Thankfully, Vincent checks the closest sensible location first. It doesn't take him that long to find the box of snacks left out on the galley table, and searching through that reveals the music player and accompanying headphones without a problem.

He returns, doesn't hear any immediate difference with Irahl, and judges that it's probably safe to come over and offer up the guy's music player. And once it's delivered, he automatically goes to have a seat (slowly, again) at the end of the other's bed, as if that's just a normal place to sit in these kinds of situations.

He'll give him a moment, see how this goes.]

[Irahl has always been as unobtrusive or as unnoticed as possible when having a bad time, so he goes through the ritual of starting up his music without a problem, and takes a minute to himself while giving little outward sign that there's still something wrong. His breathing isn't quite so tense, and he seems downright calm compared to trying to claw out his own augment.

Inside is a mess, however. He hates that he can tell he's glad that Vincent doesn't walk back to his own side of the room, when he should be wanting nothing but for the other man to get as far away from him as possible, right now.

It's bad enough in there that--by the time enough music shocks into his head that he's able to calm down another couple steps--he makes the realization that he really needs to say something. He's actually at a level of not-okay that he can't ignore, and this results in one of those dizzying looks at himself and his whole situation that he spends so much time and energy avoiding.

Eventually, he sighs in defeat, and shifts in a sort of off-kilter way--uncomfortably shrugging one shoulder forward.]

Do you... ever feel like this place isn't real, sometimes?

[Vincent waits, patiently. He actually lays down, at a point, with his feet planted firmly on the floor, because sitting up is way too uncomfortable an experience right now.

He's a little surprised to hear a question, but he's grateful to hear Irahl trying to voice anything. It's not a hard question for Vincent to answer.]

Yeah, sometimes. Hard to believe it ain't a dream, every now an' again.

[Irahl fully realizes that he has picked a wild place to start any sort of conversation from, but he's glad that Vincent at least answers mostly in the affirmative. It gives him a place to start. He might have dropped the attempt completely if Vincent had said no.

Like other things that are difficult or complicated for Irahl to put into words, it takes him a minute, slowly and awkwardly picking his way through the thought on the fly. At least he has been preemptively reassured that the man he's trying to talk to is incredibly patient.]

Yeah. It's been... uh. Hard to keep in mind. That it's real.

[He moves his shoulder in an antsy way again, like his skin is uncomfortable.]

Sounds weird, but normally I have... There's this sense. All the time. But I don't really have it out here.

[And he pauses there, not because he's expecting a response or because his thought is finished, but he's hearing the words as they're leaving his mouth and is despairing, as they're making even less sense out loud than they had in his head.]

[The mood of this is actually very familiar to Vincent, reminding him strikingly of strange, faltering conversations he would have with his smarter half. There was always a level of inherent vulnerability to them--and it's present here as well, he assumes--just in the fact that they let him listen to their struggling to describe something that they feel is important. Genuine vulnerability is something that he really values, and so he has the utmost respect and patience for it here, just the same as he did back home.

Besides, it's not so hard to understand. He hesitates to answer, but it's not because he's confused. If anything, he sounds... Amazed?]

No, I... I get it, I've got one too, normally. It's been gone since I got here...

[Maybe it hasn't fully sunk in for Vincent yet, the fact that they're both monsters, and that they've probably had a lot of the same life experiences.]

Edited (this is the extra space police, open up!) 2023-12-06 05:16 (UTC)

[It also hadn't dawned on Irahl that Vincent might understand him on something like this, if only because the few times he had confided in other creatures like himself, they hadn't seemed to be able to relate. He'd always thought this was a him thing. And even if whatever Vincent is talking about isn't exactly the same, it's still close enough to what's going on with him now to count for something.

Irahl also sounds tentative then, but it's a mix of confusion and wary amazement. Like he's hesitant to believe Vincent's response.]

Really? ...It's a feeling that's like...

[First, he pauses because he starts to lift his hand to gesture in an effort to explain, before remembering that Vincent can't see. Then, the pause becomes him opting not to try describe it with words either, in the event that he'll immediately run into more ways that they're different than they are the same, and he doesn't want that right now.]

...I'm used to it always being there. So without it, it's like. Floating. Or dreaming.

[Vincent isn't completely sure if Irahl gives up trying to explain, or if what he eventually ends up saying is his description of the feeling, but it doesn't matter to him much either way. He nods--though he quickly stops, because his head and his neck still both hurt.]

Yeah, same. That's... Exactly what it's been like.

["Floating" is a good way to put it. He would extrapolate, but as... Exciting as this is, he also doesn't want to steamroll past whatever Irahl may or may not be trying to say with all this.]

[For Irahl, the effect is like floating in that his internal compass has been sent spinning a little, but it has been even more like dreaming, because that's the only thing that a lack of constant discomfort is like to him.

And now, with the space given to continue his original thought, Irahl can feel some of that constricting anxiety beginning to tighten again, despite Vincent seemingly being on the same page. So, he pushes himself forward before he can think himself into a worse state, and it's one of the first times that his anxiety begins to color his tone since he'd arrived here.]

I guess... I've been waiting to wake up. Not focusing.

[Which, honestly, isn't all that different from how he is on a normal day back home. But there's an important difference in the consequences department, here. There's a beat where he quietly psyches himself up a little, before haltingly arriving at his original point.]

Think that's why I got crazy, earlier... Like it wasn't real. Wasn't thinking.

[Vincent listens to the way that Irahl shifts and the anxiety that creeps into his voice. He has been so sure that whatever happened between them earlier was his own fault, and he doesn't realize that he's bracing to hear an explanation of why it fucked the other guy up so bad.

So when he hears... Something closer to an apology, he's surprised.]

Oh...

[He doesn't want to leave the other guy hanging in an awkward silence, but he has to think for a moment. Finally factoring in that Irahl has been feeling... Guilty about... How things went?]

No, you... I was the one being crazy. I should be saying that to you...

[So, neither of them would deny that Vincent had gotten crazy, beginning from the moment he'd jumped up at the word "fight." But everything Vincent had done had seemed to make so much sense at the time, it had been a seamless transition from casual sparring to brutal, gleeful aggression that just seemed to fit the other man. Irahl had seen glimpses of it before; he himself had been the one to make the suggestion after seeing his friend's hands begin to turn into claws. To him, nothing that could be pinned on Vincent had come as a surprise.

The whole thing had been Irahl's idea in the first place, (even if he'd originally meant to fight later,) and almost every escalation had been his fault.

So, he repeats his vague statement from before, with a little bit of elaboration.]

It happens. You were just playing along.

I... Wasn't...

[This admission leaves his mouth before he can think better of it, and he... Well, he immediately looks a little sheepish about having said it out-loud. He brings a hand up automatically to try and hide the lower half of his face, which may have started turning a color had it not been so many weird and bruised-looking colors already.]

I wasn't. I could have stopped. But I was... Having a good time...

[...A good time beating the shit out of his friend and then pouncing on him to do some other questionable things, which is weird and bad. And he'd thought that Irahl had been the one just "playing along" with what he was doing...]

[They'd both been having a good time, which had been pretty clear as it'd been happening, but there's something about hearing Vincent say it that makes Irahl feel like something is twisting around in his chest. Hungover nausea plus nerves, he's sure. Still, he glances sidelong at Vincent, knowing that he can't catch the look.]

I don't normally--

[But, he balks at trying to put words to any part of it, bails on the explanation, and circles back to his original point.]

If I'd been thinking, wouldn't have started in the first place. So... you're good.

[Vincent starts to protest, but he stops before he's gotten more than a word out. He's not always the brightest bulb in the lamp, and emotions make everything inherently more difficult to suss out, but he has just enough awareness to realize that they're batting these nebulous apologies and assurances back and forth without either of them actually feeling more assured. Because they're both missing the point.]

Hang on...

[He runs through everything Irahl has been saying, really thinks about it. And when he thinks he's finally got a better idea of what's actually going on in there, he rolls onto his side to face Irahl properly, propping himself up on his forearm.]

You... Don't gotta feel bad, man. This got weird, yeah, but I'm not upset with you or anything.

[Hearing Vincent move around a little automatically pulls Irahl's attention over, watching the man's poor, busted face for a minute.

He doesn't know what to say, at first. Hearing that Vincent isn't upset--and it at least looking like it's true--somehow doesn't make him feel a whole lot better. It's a relief, of course, but that's apparently not all there is to it. Even if Vincent isn't precisely upset, there are other things he could be, or there could be damage to their relationship that will show up later... even things just being different could be bad... and then there's the internal whiplash he'll be feeling every time he thinks about some of the things that happened...

So, after a minute of thinking, one small part of Vincent's response stands out.]

...I didn't want it to get weird.

[And that’s such a straightforward, understandable, clear-cut sentiment compared to their earlier attempts to explain themselves that Vincent nearly looks relieved. He feels the same way, of course, and immediately sympathizes with Irahl, but… He can do something with this.]

I get it. I don’t want that either.

[And they can’t exactly walk this one back. Vincent can’t forget the experience any better than Irahl can. He knows that.]

But we’re in a crazy place where weird shit is bound to happen. You’re still my friend, I ain’t about to let it change that.

[He reaches out to touch the other man’s arm again, to underline his point.]

We can figure things out until it don’t feel weird anymore, alright? I’m on board. You ain’t ruined nothing.

[The vertigo of everything Vincent is saying makes his hungover stomach curl in on itself. Something in his chest still feels like it's caving in, but not in a strangling way this time. Instead, a breath of relief sighs out of him after not realizing he'd been holding onto it.

There's a lot there--so much so that Irahl can feel his brain immediately shut it away somewhere to be looked at later. When it's quiet and calm, and he's trying to rest, that's when it will cycle through his brain again.

For now, all he can do is try for simple acceptance. That's hard enough. It takes him a minute before he manages a small nod.]

Okay.

[He ends up dropping his arm after a little bit, because it still hurts a lot to keep it upright. Leaning on his other arm is already a challenge.]

Okay.

[And with that seemingly... Settled, he collapses back to where he had been moments before, laying on his back with his legs extended. He presses the palm of his hand (which has several bandages on it) against his forehead. A weak smile on his face. He's still confused and embarrassed, but his heart doesn't feel quite so heavy now.]

Assumin' you wanna talk to me still, an' all that. 'Cause I was pretty sure I'd fucked up bad with this one...

[This both explains his earlier mood, and, you know, gives Irahl a last chance to tell him off for being a fucking weirdo. It's a little hard for him to believe he's still not being blamed for something.]

[The combination of embarrassment and relief is hitting Irahl too, and the combination is nauseating. He's looking forward to hopefully being able to fully calm down again soon, because he has a lot to sleep off.

For now, the deliriousness he's feeling in the wake of all this has him reaching out to rest a hand in the center of Vincent's chest briefly, before he even thinks about it. Very rarely does he ever feel the compulsion to touch another person for any nonviolent reason, but the want to reassure is still pretty strong, so it just kind of happens when finding words turns out to be too hard.

It's only after he takes his hand back that he thinks of something to say.]

Still better than my last roommate.

[It's good that Vincent is so beat-up, otherwise he would have instinctually thought he was being handed something and tried to grab Irahl's hand. Might have ruined what he belatedly realizes is simply a kind gesture. It's heartwarming.

On the heels of that, the bit about a roommate makes him laugh a little - which, again, kind of rolls into a wheezing cough that he tries to smother as quickly as he can.]

Hey, I'll take it...

[It still doesn't occur to him that, with Irahl's recent past, that roommate was very likely related to his being kidnapped, but maybe it'll hit him later. He makes... A very weak attempt to get up, craning his head and a little bit of his shoulders before giving up and lying back down.]

S'good thing, too. 'Cause I may just live here now.

[Referring to his place here, sideways on the end of the bed, possibly forever.]

[There's a huff under his breath at that comment, because not only is it ridiculous that Vincent is crashed there like that, it's also inconvenient.

Irahl doesn't tell him to leave, though. He carefully leans over to take a long drink of his ice water instead. You know one of those ice cubes ends up in his mouth. It feels great with how busted everything is. And he rearranges a little while it melts, lumping up his pillow behind him so he can carefully drag his legs up onto the bed (wow, one hip sure is sore), and sit back against the wall.

It's still uncomfortable and embarrassing to have Vincent hanging around this close to him, but it should be much, much worse than it is.]

Don't tell me I hit you that hard.

[And he really didn't mean to linger... Irahl seems to be doing better. The guy's even moving to get more comfortable, instead of the awful tension Vincent could practically feel radiating off of him just a few moments before. He can go back to his bunk now. They're both going to be okay.]

Listen, man, I dunno who kicked my ass harder... You or me...

[He makes another attempt to lift himself up, this time rolling onto his side again first. This does better. He's able to sort of lever himself up into a sitting position this time, though it makes his head pound again to do so.]

Though I gotta say... If we ever get space-raiders or whatever comin' in here, they are fucked.

[He'll... He'll stand up in a minute. Really.]

Edited 2023-12-07 01:40 (UTC)

13th Cycle // Continued Thread

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