((FR03: Keegan Garcia and FR02: Vasily Ivanov continued from You Deserved Better Than You Got (Someone's Got To Say It Sometime 'Cause It's True)))
Keegan was still mostly looking up into the sky, but now he was thinking about how these monk robes he was wearing were simultaneously pretty badass and really warm and stifling. Maybe tossing them on over the rest of his clothes was the mistake—the material actually wasn't that heavy, like this was closer to Halloween tier than SCA grade—and he should probably do something about that unfortunate layering, at least take his jacket off or whatever, but that would involve moving, and he didn't feel up to doing that right now. The soreness in his side still flared up when he moved unnecessarily or, you know, laughed.
He'd been doing a lot of that the last few minutes, and truth be told, the thing he felt guiltiest about was that he didn't feel guiltier.
Picnic After The Panic
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3462
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
“C’mon man, you’ll be fine. Look, we’re back home, see?”
((Fisk Bateman continued from committing aces and eights. ))
As they made their way back to his favorite haunt of the arena, Fisk gave James his ruined mask. “Here man, clean yourself up and have a seat, you’re leaking all over the place...”
It was at the point now Fisk wasn’t angry with James for that fuckup he’d done on the clipper ship, just disappointed. He wasn’t gonna bitch him out for it, because Fisk figured the ass kicking he’d obtained by Jasper was a good enough lesson...
Plus all things considered Jasper was dead, and maybe one more thanks to James if the gal couldn’t swim, so you couldn’t call it a complete failure. Everyone important walked away, a bit dinged up sure, and in the end that was all that mattered.
Anywho Fisk couldn’t help but smile when he saw Keegan and Vasily again. They weren’t even on the clipper ship and they performed outstandingly. He flourished his new hook at them, grinning ear to ear.
“Look at you, you fuckin’ geniuses! I love you guys! That machine gun cover fire was top shelf work! Which one of came up with that high iq pla-“
Fisk’s head tilted, smile still on his lips, confusion in his eyes.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
((Fisk Bateman continued from committing aces and eights. ))
As they made their way back to his favorite haunt of the arena, Fisk gave James his ruined mask. “Here man, clean yourself up and have a seat, you’re leaking all over the place...”
It was at the point now Fisk wasn’t angry with James for that fuckup he’d done on the clipper ship, just disappointed. He wasn’t gonna bitch him out for it, because Fisk figured the ass kicking he’d obtained by Jasper was a good enough lesson...
Plus all things considered Jasper was dead, and maybe one more thanks to James if the gal couldn’t swim, so you couldn’t call it a complete failure. Everyone important walked away, a bit dinged up sure, and in the end that was all that mattered.
Anywho Fisk couldn’t help but smile when he saw Keegan and Vasily again. They weren’t even on the clipper ship and they performed outstandingly. He flourished his new hook at them, grinning ear to ear.
“Look at you, you fuckin’ geniuses! I love you guys! That machine gun cover fire was top shelf work! Which one of came up with that high iq pla-“
Fisk’s head tilted, smile still on his lips, confusion in his eyes.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Vasily was just about to do a belly flop into the water for the third time (seriously, fuck Keegan) when Fisk arrived.
His soaked figure darted across the floor and jumped into the pool, abdomen-first and landed with a clapping noise of water against skin that was wince-inducing.
A second passed, and Vasily, underwater, realized that their situation was incredibly odd without context, and his head rose above the water.
“I came up with it!”
Initial pride washed away, leaving frustration and anger. He climbed up the ladder of the pool, reddened torso on display, and frowned.
“What the fuck were you thinking? No, seriously- did you just decide to pick a fight against the 6’5 guy with martial arts experience? And his allies? I thought you were trying to find Giselle!”
He took a deep breath.
“Whatever. Fuck that. I’m just glad you survived this. Next time, if you wanna kill someone- can’t you just, like, stand here and point the gun at any poor schmucks down below and fire? We were playing truth or dare and we looked down and we saw you guys in a full blown fight and- like- did you know how worried we were? Are you kidding me? We didn’t even know what was going on until it was almost too late- if I hadn’t stepped in, you might have been dead!”
No. No. Control yourself.
"Fuck. You could've died. Anyways. Anyways.” (He took another, more controlled breath this time that sounded vaguely like a sigh.) “Wanna join in on playing truth or dare with us? I got dared to bellyflop into the pool for three fucking turns in a row because Keegs was an absolute sociopath. Keegan, can you repeat what you said about Fisk’s man meat to his face?”
His soaked figure darted across the floor and jumped into the pool, abdomen-first and landed with a clapping noise of water against skin that was wince-inducing.
A second passed, and Vasily, underwater, realized that their situation was incredibly odd without context, and his head rose above the water.
“I came up with it!”
Initial pride washed away, leaving frustration and anger. He climbed up the ladder of the pool, reddened torso on display, and frowned.
“What the fuck were you thinking? No, seriously- did you just decide to pick a fight against the 6’5 guy with martial arts experience? And his allies? I thought you were trying to find Giselle!”
He took a deep breath.
“Whatever. Fuck that. I’m just glad you survived this. Next time, if you wanna kill someone- can’t you just, like, stand here and point the gun at any poor schmucks down below and fire? We were playing truth or dare and we looked down and we saw you guys in a full blown fight and- like- did you know how worried we were? Are you kidding me? We didn’t even know what was going on until it was almost too late- if I hadn’t stepped in, you might have been dead!”
No. No. Control yourself.
"Fuck. You could've died. Anyways. Anyways.” (He took another, more controlled breath this time that sounded vaguely like a sigh.) “Wanna join in on playing truth or dare with us? I got dared to bellyflop into the pool for three fucking turns in a row because Keegs was an absolute sociopath. Keegan, can you repeat what you said about Fisk’s man meat to his face?”
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
((James Highchurch continued from When Betting On High Card Pays Off))
James was sulking, he had been for most of the walk back. His face still hurt like hell, nose kept bleeding, but that wasn’t the reason. Fisk trying to be nice just made it fucking worse.
He and Fisk had come back to the cruise ship to find Vasily and Keegan just fucking around, not a care in the fucking world. Or maybe they were just better at bullshitting themselves. James didn’t know.
Neither of them talked to him, which was fine. Vasily just told off Fisk for being reckless before inviting him to join in on their little game of acting like Giselle wasn’t dead and that they could pretend the game away between expeditions where they got into fights and killed people. And that was fine.
Without a word, James took a seat by the wall, holding Fisk’s sliced-open mask up to his face, hoping the bleeding might finally subside.
Was Akeno going to come after them now, too? She’d already killed that Maxine girl according to the announcements, and Fisk had just taunted her after Jasper’s death. How many more people did they need hunting them down?
Using one arm, James hugged his knees to his chest and just sat in silence for a moment before speaking up.
“We… what the fuck are you guys fucking doing? Ivan’s still out there. Giselle… shit, dude. Giselle’s fucking dead and you’re gonna talk about man meat like we’re in the yuck yuck comedy hour?” His voice was quiet, and he wasn’t certain the others could actually hear them. The words weren’t directed at any of them in particular, anyway.
James didn’t even look at Fisk or Keegan or Vasily directly, eyes drawn to the cruise deck, and further beyond that, to whatever lonely corner of the flotilla Ivan had left Giselle in.
James was sulking, he had been for most of the walk back. His face still hurt like hell, nose kept bleeding, but that wasn’t the reason. Fisk trying to be nice just made it fucking worse.
He and Fisk had come back to the cruise ship to find Vasily and Keegan just fucking around, not a care in the fucking world. Or maybe they were just better at bullshitting themselves. James didn’t know.
Neither of them talked to him, which was fine. Vasily just told off Fisk for being reckless before inviting him to join in on their little game of acting like Giselle wasn’t dead and that they could pretend the game away between expeditions where they got into fights and killed people. And that was fine.
Without a word, James took a seat by the wall, holding Fisk’s sliced-open mask up to his face, hoping the bleeding might finally subside.
Was Akeno going to come after them now, too? She’d already killed that Maxine girl according to the announcements, and Fisk had just taunted her after Jasper’s death. How many more people did they need hunting them down?
Using one arm, James hugged his knees to his chest and just sat in silence for a moment before speaking up.
“We… what the fuck are you guys fucking doing? Ivan’s still out there. Giselle… shit, dude. Giselle’s fucking dead and you’re gonna talk about man meat like we’re in the yuck yuck comedy hour?” His voice was quiet, and he wasn’t certain the others could actually hear them. The words weren’t directed at any of them in particular, anyway.
James didn’t even look at Fisk or Keegan or Vasily directly, eyes drawn to the cruise deck, and further beyond that, to whatever lonely corner of the flotilla Ivan had left Giselle in.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3462
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
All of a sudden, Vasily was pulling a Fisk to Fisk. In lighter circumstances, Keegan would've smiled, said it was deserved, gotten some digs of his own in maybe (but maybe not, because Fisk still made him a little nervous). As-is, though, he was just a little bit more preoccupied with the blood pouring from James' nose. Obviously, things hadn't gone amazingly.
James was out of sorts. Everyone here seemed to be in a worse state of mind than Keegan, and maybe it was shitty of him but he actually felt a little put out by that, like sure getting punched in the nose hurt, Keegan had been there once or twice himself, but he was still the only one with a bullet probably still floating around somewhere inside. Things could be worse for them, was all he was saying.
"Getting in touch with my inner friar," Keegan said, halfheartedly gesturing at his get-up. All of a sudden, some of his levity was slipping. Everyone was on a different wavelength, but none of them were good.
"Anyways," he continued, choosing to let Vasily's request slide unacknowledged for more than one reason, "we're here now, right?"
There were things to get into, still. The masks, the game, Giselle, Ivan's disappearing act. But all of that could wait. What they needed right now was some way to break the tension, but Keegan had only one plan for that sort of thing and it was making bad jokes and getting people to laugh at him. And maybe that would still work out, but not quite yet. He needed a few moments to sort things out, a shift in perspective.
A split second later, he figured out what was actually bothering him.
"Right?" Keegan repeated, the corners of his lips turning down a bit. "You guys need any bandages?
"And where's Bacchia?"
James was out of sorts. Everyone here seemed to be in a worse state of mind than Keegan, and maybe it was shitty of him but he actually felt a little put out by that, like sure getting punched in the nose hurt, Keegan had been there once or twice himself, but he was still the only one with a bullet probably still floating around somewhere inside. Things could be worse for them, was all he was saying.
"Getting in touch with my inner friar," Keegan said, halfheartedly gesturing at his get-up. All of a sudden, some of his levity was slipping. Everyone was on a different wavelength, but none of them were good.
"Anyways," he continued, choosing to let Vasily's request slide unacknowledged for more than one reason, "we're here now, right?"
There were things to get into, still. The masks, the game, Giselle, Ivan's disappearing act. But all of that could wait. What they needed right now was some way to break the tension, but Keegan had only one plan for that sort of thing and it was making bad jokes and getting people to laugh at him. And maybe that would still work out, but not quite yet. He needed a few moments to sort things out, a shift in perspective.
A split second later, he figured out what was actually bothering him.
"Right?" Keegan repeated, the corners of his lips turning down a bit. "You guys need any bandages?
"And where's Bacchia?"
"Okay, umm..."
Damn, he leaves the team for all of five seconds and they need all the dirty deets on...well fucking everything.
"First off, slow the fuck down. This is a lot of shit you're asking me to process in the span of the five seconds I've been here." It didn't help that everyone wanted to go RABBLERABBLERABBLE in between each bit of things they asked of Fisk. "Let me take this one by one. I'm sure this has been a very eventful hour and a half for all us involved, so hopefully you'd understand that includes me..."
He tilted his head at Keegan's remark of getting in touch with his inner monk. Fisk coughed back a laugh as he made his way over to a nearby beach chair and table. He sat, and crossed his legs one over the other. Fisk pointed his cane at James first and foremost. "James is right. Giselle is dead. I'm sure you all heard the announcements by now. Keegan, you were there when she got dragged off. Now, at this point, there's nothing we can do about that to bring her back. Maybe carving Ivan open over a Ouija board or something will let us talk to her, but that's the best we're gonna get; and maybe now isn't the best time for jokes or fucking around, but I get it."
Fisk shook his head, he rested an arm and his face on his new hook cane. "I won't judge, that kind of leads into what happened next... Or earlier I guess, I don't know." His eyes trailed over to Vasily. "I'd like to say I took out Jasper, because taking a big bastard like that was just a good idea early on in the game, imagine if one of us had to deal with him on our own after all... But we all know that isn't the truth, and I'm not going to insult none of your intelligence by saying it was."
Fisk shrugged. "Truth is, Jasper wasn't helping us one bit finding Giselle. Maybe he knew, maybe he didn't, don't matter now. Anyways, announcements hit, so...Jasper got a little bit angry."
"And I admit... I got a little bit angry."
"I don't regret it. Could've been way worse." He side eyed James. "...Or way better, but you live and you learn, right?"
Fisk looked at Keegan, and the stairwell Fisk and James entered from. Yeah, Bacchia wasn't with them. Cool.
"Bacchia? We were going at a snails pace, and I was peeking behind myself the entire time incase Akeno wanted to follow us." He turned back to Keegan and Vasily. "Guess that was a good idea after all... Anyways, she must've wanted some alone time. If she wanted to be here right now, she would be."
"Figured you guys were tracking too, but I guess not." Fisk was willing to take responsibility for his actions, but he would not let his team make him the scapegoat for their own fuckups. He even complemented them for their quick thinking too, good grief...
"Fuck it. I'm not mad at you guys... It's just, Giselle's supposed to be here too, and she's not... I guess we'll do the funeral in a couple of hours. It's the least we owe her..."
Fisk stared at the ground for a good minute. "Sorry for harshing the mellow you guys had. It's been a rough morning." There was a slight smile growing on Fisk's jagged lips. "Against my better judgement, I guess I'll join you in your game of truth or dare, that is, if you're still game to play; but first."
Fisk patted the table.
"James. We gotta fix your nose. You look like that upside down face kid from Family Guy."
Damn, he leaves the team for all of five seconds and they need all the dirty deets on...well fucking everything.
"First off, slow the fuck down. This is a lot of shit you're asking me to process in the span of the five seconds I've been here." It didn't help that everyone wanted to go RABBLERABBLERABBLE in between each bit of things they asked of Fisk. "Let me take this one by one. I'm sure this has been a very eventful hour and a half for all us involved, so hopefully you'd understand that includes me..."
He tilted his head at Keegan's remark of getting in touch with his inner monk. Fisk coughed back a laugh as he made his way over to a nearby beach chair and table. He sat, and crossed his legs one over the other. Fisk pointed his cane at James first and foremost. "James is right. Giselle is dead. I'm sure you all heard the announcements by now. Keegan, you were there when she got dragged off. Now, at this point, there's nothing we can do about that to bring her back. Maybe carving Ivan open over a Ouija board or something will let us talk to her, but that's the best we're gonna get; and maybe now isn't the best time for jokes or fucking around, but I get it."
Fisk shook his head, he rested an arm and his face on his new hook cane. "I won't judge, that kind of leads into what happened next... Or earlier I guess, I don't know." His eyes trailed over to Vasily. "I'd like to say I took out Jasper, because taking a big bastard like that was just a good idea early on in the game, imagine if one of us had to deal with him on our own after all... But we all know that isn't the truth, and I'm not going to insult none of your intelligence by saying it was."
Fisk shrugged. "Truth is, Jasper wasn't helping us one bit finding Giselle. Maybe he knew, maybe he didn't, don't matter now. Anyways, announcements hit, so...Jasper got a little bit angry."
"And I admit... I got a little bit angry."
"I don't regret it. Could've been way worse." He side eyed James. "...Or way better, but you live and you learn, right?"
Fisk looked at Keegan, and the stairwell Fisk and James entered from. Yeah, Bacchia wasn't with them. Cool.
"Bacchia? We were going at a snails pace, and I was peeking behind myself the entire time incase Akeno wanted to follow us." He turned back to Keegan and Vasily. "Guess that was a good idea after all... Anyways, she must've wanted some alone time. If she wanted to be here right now, she would be."
"Figured you guys were tracking too, but I guess not." Fisk was willing to take responsibility for his actions, but he would not let his team make him the scapegoat for their own fuckups. He even complemented them for their quick thinking too, good grief...
"Fuck it. I'm not mad at you guys... It's just, Giselle's supposed to be here too, and she's not... I guess we'll do the funeral in a couple of hours. It's the least we owe her..."
Fisk stared at the ground for a good minute. "Sorry for harshing the mellow you guys had. It's been a rough morning." There was a slight smile growing on Fisk's jagged lips. "Against my better judgement, I guess I'll join you in your game of truth or dare, that is, if you're still game to play; but first."
Fisk patted the table.
"James. We gotta fix your nose. You look like that upside down face kid from Family Guy."
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
“Hope she didn’t get Giselle-d. That’s not very feminist,” he muttered under his breath- a joke only audible to himself and only half serious. Bacchia was clearly unstable and probably one of the more dangerous members of the group, and he didn’t really want to deal with her if everything falls apart.
Vasily hated thinking like this.
He wrapped his towel around himself. At least Fisk had the humility in him to say what he said. He thought he’d be too prideful to admit it. Still not perfect, though.
“You live and learn,” Vasily said, “but I don’t know if you get this or not but some people, like Giselle, wouldn’t live to learn.”
There’s that rage bubbling up in him again. He couldn’t let himself raise his voice. This was unfair. He didn’t really know how much capacity for hate he had, but somewhere along the line it was redirected to Fisk and not the multitude of people who put him in this situation, because Fisk was the only one here.. A thousand retorts died in his mouth in lieu of rolling his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m just worried- but you can probably handle it. Probably.”
Time to change the topic. He grabbed his discarded clothes.
“Anyways, I’m just gonna put on my clothes over the swim trunks, and to be honest I think y’all should do that too- makes it a lot less embarrassing when something goes wrong and you go, like, splash, y’know?”
Vasily hated thinking like this.
He wrapped his towel around himself. At least Fisk had the humility in him to say what he said. He thought he’d be too prideful to admit it. Still not perfect, though.
“You live and learn,” Vasily said, “but I don’t know if you get this or not but some people, like Giselle, wouldn’t live to learn.”
There’s that rage bubbling up in him again. He couldn’t let himself raise his voice. This was unfair. He didn’t really know how much capacity for hate he had, but somewhere along the line it was redirected to Fisk and not the multitude of people who put him in this situation, because Fisk was the only one here.. A thousand retorts died in his mouth in lieu of rolling his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m just worried- but you can probably handle it. Probably.”
Time to change the topic. He grabbed his discarded clothes.
“Anyways, I’m just gonna put on my clothes over the swim trunks, and to be honest I think y’all should do that too- makes it a lot less embarrassing when something goes wrong and you go, like, splash, y’know?”
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
James wasn’t a genius or anything but he was definitely picking up a bit of bullshit in the way Fisk talked about the business with Jasper, selling it like it was kind of an innocent oopsie that didn’t almost get himself and Bacchia and James killed for no good reason when they really should have been regrouping or something.
And the way he looked at James for the “way better” bit, like things going the way they did was actually James’s fault. Maybe he was just reading it all in the most negative possible way because his nose was busted and he’d had to watch another death that had felt extremely pointless, but it definitely felt, like, a little manipulative? Which didn’t exactly line up with his view of Fisk.
Like, the guy could definitely be a bit of a shit, but James didn’t think of him as somebody that’d pull some sort of social game on the other Respects. No, yeah, it had to be James just seeing things, the pain coursing through his face obscuring his ability to understand his friend’s meaning properly. The Family Guy joke didn’t help much.
Still everyone was definitely acting way too happy right now, like this whole thing coming back for them was nothing worth worrying about. He really would have thought Keegan, at least, would be taking the stuff with Giselle seriously, but nope. Just having fun in his little costume like shit wasn’t bleak as fuck
Slowly, James rose to his feet and made his way over to the table Fisk indicated, taking a seat.
Oh, Bacchia was gone. Maybe killed by Ivan too. The thought washed over James and he found that he felt… not a whole lot. He wanted to believe in the Bacchia he talked with the previous night, but at the very first opportunity she’d hopped on to get involved in the next kill. Made him feel like a moron for acting like she’d been sincere before.
In spite of all the thoughts running through his head, all he said aloud was “I’d like that. The funeral thing, I mean.”
And the way he looked at James for the “way better” bit, like things going the way they did was actually James’s fault. Maybe he was just reading it all in the most negative possible way because his nose was busted and he’d had to watch another death that had felt extremely pointless, but it definitely felt, like, a little manipulative? Which didn’t exactly line up with his view of Fisk.
Like, the guy could definitely be a bit of a shit, but James didn’t think of him as somebody that’d pull some sort of social game on the other Respects. No, yeah, it had to be James just seeing things, the pain coursing through his face obscuring his ability to understand his friend’s meaning properly. The Family Guy joke didn’t help much.
Still everyone was definitely acting way too happy right now, like this whole thing coming back for them was nothing worth worrying about. He really would have thought Keegan, at least, would be taking the stuff with Giselle seriously, but nope. Just having fun in his little costume like shit wasn’t bleak as fuck
Slowly, James rose to his feet and made his way over to the table Fisk indicated, taking a seat.
Oh, Bacchia was gone. Maybe killed by Ivan too. The thought washed over James and he found that he felt… not a whole lot. He wanted to believe in the Bacchia he talked with the previous night, but at the very first opportunity she’d hopped on to get involved in the next kill. Made him feel like a moron for acting like she’d been sincere before.
In spite of all the thoughts running through his head, all he said aloud was “I’d like that. The funeral thing, I mean.”
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3462
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
"I get it," Keegan said to Fisk. He did his best to pitch it sympathetically—"I understand"—rather than petulantly—"You don't need to tell me"—but wasn't sure if it landed, and immediately started wondering if he should clarify. It was a more pleasant line of anxious speculation than all the other stuff.
Things were just tense. Everyone was on edge. Bacchia had slipped off, who knows where or why. Giselle was still dead. Vasily was the only one here who hadn't gotten kind of fucked up physically, and he was more than kind of fucked up in other ways to make up for it. Nobody could decide whether they were having a funeral or playing Truth or Dare, and Keegan felt hopelessly lost because his typical way of dealing with this stuff was to shrug and call it both at once and ride the disaster all the way down, but it was so, so clear that was not the right answer.
Being around people he kind of liked and cared about was hard. Normally that was a role filled primarily by Verity (and how had that turned out?) but now he had more people to pay attention to and they wanted mutually-exclusive things. Keegan could tell they were all trying to blow off tension, but he didn't know who was most on edge and who could be pushed and how it would all turn out, and their coping mechanisms were mutually exclusive.
He was looking at the sky again without seeing it. He wanted to throw in his support in for the funeral. It was the right call. He wanted to throw his support behind the game. It had already helped him relax more than he'd thought he could. He wanted to just focus on silly things like swim trunks. It was the easiest thing to consider.
"We're here," he finally said. "We—it should've been better, but now it's us. So we should do what we can, right? If we can find Giselle, we say goodbye. And we watch out for each other and do better, right? But we still have to find fun where we can, make sure we like hanging out. We're a team. That's our greatest strength."
He turned a little in the chair, specifically to make his side ache, so that the groan he let out wasn't fake.
"This sucks," he grumbled to himself. "I sound like a school spirit assembly."
Things were just tense. Everyone was on edge. Bacchia had slipped off, who knows where or why. Giselle was still dead. Vasily was the only one here who hadn't gotten kind of fucked up physically, and he was more than kind of fucked up in other ways to make up for it. Nobody could decide whether they were having a funeral or playing Truth or Dare, and Keegan felt hopelessly lost because his typical way of dealing with this stuff was to shrug and call it both at once and ride the disaster all the way down, but it was so, so clear that was not the right answer.
Being around people he kind of liked and cared about was hard. Normally that was a role filled primarily by Verity (and how had that turned out?) but now he had more people to pay attention to and they wanted mutually-exclusive things. Keegan could tell they were all trying to blow off tension, but he didn't know who was most on edge and who could be pushed and how it would all turn out, and their coping mechanisms were mutually exclusive.
He was looking at the sky again without seeing it. He wanted to throw in his support in for the funeral. It was the right call. He wanted to throw his support behind the game. It had already helped him relax more than he'd thought he could. He wanted to just focus on silly things like swim trunks. It was the easiest thing to consider.
"We're here," he finally said. "We—it should've been better, but now it's us. So we should do what we can, right? If we can find Giselle, we say goodbye. And we watch out for each other and do better, right? But we still have to find fun where we can, make sure we like hanging out. We're a team. That's our greatest strength."
He turned a little in the chair, specifically to make his side ache, so that the groan he let out wasn't fake.
"This sucks," he grumbled to himself. "I sound like a school spirit assembly."
A lot of people said a lot of things but in the end, Fisk didn’t hear that.
He heard Vasily though. He heard him mumbling to himself then he compared the people they were hunting to Giselle, as if any of them were held a candle to their worth. He glared at Vasily.
“Vasily-“
Fisk stood up. He dropped his cane. His wrist punched the arm rest and slid it back.
It was the next sentence though that Fisk couldn’t take. The lack of trust. The addition of ‘probably’ as a smarmy little remark that Fisk was somehow responsible or couldn’t deal with the situation that just-
Fisk grabbed the chair. Spun around, and threw it towards the edge. Wanted to toss it into the water, but it shattering over the railing was good enough as is.
“Vasily shut the fuck up! You don’t get to use Giselle’s name like that! S-she’s not ‘other people’ goddamnit! I could give two shits about them! It’s my fucking job they don’t live so you guys do, in case you fucking forgot!”
Fisk felt himself punch his chest. He felt heat rise up in his face. He felt dizzy. He turned and kicked another beach chair, sending it skipping about four feet in front of him. He kicked another into pool water.
“I don’t know what the fucks gotten into you, but don’t act like you’re the one who’s got their shit together after that shit you did with Calla! Don’t act like I wasn’t the first to volunteer looking for Giselle, I fucking tried! That stupid cunt Rhonda held a shotgun to my fucking face or else I’d have caught up!”
Pacing in circles and brushing his hands through his hair, Fisk felt like he was suffocating. Ungrateful! Un-fucking-grateful! Vasily had a mental breakdown and Fisk was there for him, Fisk tried to help him, and this is how he repays him? Insinuating that Giselle was his fault?! Blaming him?!
Fisk paced towards the railing. He gripped it tight and put his foot against the wall. He jumped. Felt like he almost got his waist overboard before he caught himself, and rolled back. Arms still gripping the railing he kicked at the barrier, and slumped down.
He leaned against the railing, leg shaking. He didn’t even know where Giselle was; didn’t know all the grisly things Ivan did to her corpse, didn’t know if he’d ever see it. Now was not the time to use her as a ‘gotcha’ argument.
“Fuck...”
Fisk needed to get away. Nobody was saying shit that meant anything, just looking at him. Judging. Blaming. He did this for them, and they just- He did this so they wouldn’t be alone- that...
Fisk reaches into his coat pocket. This was supposed to be for good times, but right now he needed it more than ever. Two fingertips of powder later, maybe he’d feel better. His hands were shaking again. He willed them to stop.
“James. James James James. Hooo, we gotta get you fixed up. Ima fix you up.” He walked back to the table stepping over a kicked over chair in the way.
“Good news is, resetting a nose doesn’t hurt as bad as resetting a shoulder. Bad news, it’s still gonna hurt.” Fisk stood on his toes, opening and closing his hands. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the bag, setting it on the table.
“I don’t know your opinion on drugs but... if you want to have some before or after... I don’t blame you. If you’re straight edge though, I get it. Just an option.” Fisk looked at James, powder on the edge of his nostril. “It’s supposed to take away the pain though.”
Fisk’s eyes were pleading that it would, because it certainly wasn’t kicking in yet. He sighed.
“When you’re ready...”
He heard Vasily though. He heard him mumbling to himself then he compared the people they were hunting to Giselle, as if any of them were held a candle to their worth. He glared at Vasily.
“Vasily-“
Fisk stood up. He dropped his cane. His wrist punched the arm rest and slid it back.
It was the next sentence though that Fisk couldn’t take. The lack of trust. The addition of ‘probably’ as a smarmy little remark that Fisk was somehow responsible or couldn’t deal with the situation that just-
Fisk grabbed the chair. Spun around, and threw it towards the edge. Wanted to toss it into the water, but it shattering over the railing was good enough as is.
“Vasily shut the fuck up! You don’t get to use Giselle’s name like that! S-she’s not ‘other people’ goddamnit! I could give two shits about them! It’s my fucking job they don’t live so you guys do, in case you fucking forgot!”
Fisk felt himself punch his chest. He felt heat rise up in his face. He felt dizzy. He turned and kicked another beach chair, sending it skipping about four feet in front of him. He kicked another into pool water.
“I don’t know what the fucks gotten into you, but don’t act like you’re the one who’s got their shit together after that shit you did with Calla! Don’t act like I wasn’t the first to volunteer looking for Giselle, I fucking tried! That stupid cunt Rhonda held a shotgun to my fucking face or else I’d have caught up!”
Pacing in circles and brushing his hands through his hair, Fisk felt like he was suffocating. Ungrateful! Un-fucking-grateful! Vasily had a mental breakdown and Fisk was there for him, Fisk tried to help him, and this is how he repays him? Insinuating that Giselle was his fault?! Blaming him?!
Fisk paced towards the railing. He gripped it tight and put his foot against the wall. He jumped. Felt like he almost got his waist overboard before he caught himself, and rolled back. Arms still gripping the railing he kicked at the barrier, and slumped down.
He leaned against the railing, leg shaking. He didn’t even know where Giselle was; didn’t know all the grisly things Ivan did to her corpse, didn’t know if he’d ever see it. Now was not the time to use her as a ‘gotcha’ argument.
“Fuck...”
Fisk needed to get away. Nobody was saying shit that meant anything, just looking at him. Judging. Blaming. He did this for them, and they just- He did this so they wouldn’t be alone- that...
Fisk reaches into his coat pocket. This was supposed to be for good times, but right now he needed it more than ever. Two fingertips of powder later, maybe he’d feel better. His hands were shaking again. He willed them to stop.
“James. James James James. Hooo, we gotta get you fixed up. Ima fix you up.” He walked back to the table stepping over a kicked over chair in the way.
“Good news is, resetting a nose doesn’t hurt as bad as resetting a shoulder. Bad news, it’s still gonna hurt.” Fisk stood on his toes, opening and closing his hands. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the bag, setting it on the table.
“I don’t know your opinion on drugs but... if you want to have some before or after... I don’t blame you. If you’re straight edge though, I get it. Just an option.” Fisk looked at James, powder on the edge of his nostril. “It’s supposed to take away the pain though.”
Fisk’s eyes were pleading that it would, because it certainly wasn’t kicking in yet. He sighed.
“When you’re ready...”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Uh oh, Fisky boy's mad.
''Bruh, I never said she wasn't in our group.''
Well, to be honest, Giselle always did feel a bit like an outsider, but… that's not really something to focus on for now.
He hugged his towel and hissed between his teeth, near-inaudible.
''Y'know that one trope, like, anger born of worry? Yeah, that's that,'' he said, putting the towel down and grabbing his shirt. ''I'm not questioning your, like, status or skill or anything. I'm just telling you to be careful next time, kay? Because I'm worried for you and you've taken too many beatings.''
Be the bigger man.
That's what he's always been told.
Never be the more emotional, invested one in an argument.
''So, like, chill, OK? Getting mad won't do shit, like, I'm sorry, alright? Just chill out. Listen to what Keegan said. Teamwork's dreamwork.''
He thought about all the other things he could have said. Vasily had a hundred retorts to fire with Giselle's name as a bullet.
But he didn't.
He was almost proud of himself for that.
Whatever. Let Fisk be mad. Everyone's mad eventually. As long as he wasn't crying or freaking out, things might be OK. That's fine. Everything's fine. Friends argue all the time. They have nothing to worry about.
Nothing to worry about that he could fix, anyways.
He shrugged his shirt on as Fisk jumped down to James.
''Hey, uh… Keegs, man, you think he's gonna stay bad like that? Like… dude, I dunno, I probably fucked up, but, like… eh well. What's said was said.''
He sighed. Gathered up his pride and his breath. Turned to Fisk's direction.
''LOOK, I said I'm fucking sorry, OK? I really am!''
''Bruh, I never said she wasn't in our group.''
Well, to be honest, Giselle always did feel a bit like an outsider, but… that's not really something to focus on for now.
He hugged his towel and hissed between his teeth, near-inaudible.
''Y'know that one trope, like, anger born of worry? Yeah, that's that,'' he said, putting the towel down and grabbing his shirt. ''I'm not questioning your, like, status or skill or anything. I'm just telling you to be careful next time, kay? Because I'm worried for you and you've taken too many beatings.''
Be the bigger man.
That's what he's always been told.
Never be the more emotional, invested one in an argument.
''So, like, chill, OK? Getting mad won't do shit, like, I'm sorry, alright? Just chill out. Listen to what Keegan said. Teamwork's dreamwork.''
He thought about all the other things he could have said. Vasily had a hundred retorts to fire with Giselle's name as a bullet.
But he didn't.
He was almost proud of himself for that.
Whatever. Let Fisk be mad. Everyone's mad eventually. As long as he wasn't crying or freaking out, things might be OK. That's fine. Everything's fine. Friends argue all the time. They have nothing to worry about.
Nothing to worry about that he could fix, anyways.
He shrugged his shirt on as Fisk jumped down to James.
''Hey, uh… Keegs, man, you think he's gonna stay bad like that? Like… dude, I dunno, I probably fucked up, but, like… eh well. What's said was said.''
He sighed. Gathered up his pride and his breath. Turned to Fisk's direction.
''LOOK, I said I'm fucking sorry, OK? I really am!''
-
Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Well, at least Fisk seemed like he was trying to take their current situation, like with Giselle and everything, seriously. Trying being the key word there, because James was pretty sure Fisk did a hit of some of the coke they’d taken before actually deciding to help James.
“Uh, like, I don’t have like a moral problem or anything, so… maybe some other time? Feels like now isn’t really the right time.” James tried his best to turn Fisk down lightly. He wanted so badly to not be pissed at Fisk right now, because the attempt at having the slightest bit of sensitivity was more than Vas and Keegan could be said to be showing.
Vasily was trying to address Fisk with something, to make amends for being kind of insensitive about Giselle or whatever, but James didn't do much to acknowledge it. Wasn't his beef, and Vas wasn't the only one who'd been handling it poorly.
“Let’s just, uh, get it over with. Fast as you can.” James gave a nod and braced himself for whatever the hell Fisk was about to do. Shit, he hoped being high didn’t mess with Fisk too much.
“Uh, like, I don’t have like a moral problem or anything, so… maybe some other time? Feels like now isn’t really the right time.” James tried his best to turn Fisk down lightly. He wanted so badly to not be pissed at Fisk right now, because the attempt at having the slightest bit of sensitivity was more than Vas and Keegan could be said to be showing.
Vasily was trying to address Fisk with something, to make amends for being kind of insensitive about Giselle or whatever, but James didn't do much to acknowledge it. Wasn't his beef, and Vas wasn't the only one who'd been handling it poorly.
“Let’s just, uh, get it over with. Fast as you can.” James gave a nod and braced himself for whatever the hell Fisk was about to do. Shit, he hoped being high didn’t mess with Fisk too much.
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3462
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
The sky got darker and darker as Keegan's eyelids closed. It wasn't a gentle drifting movement, but instead a slow and calculated narrowing, and the sky wasn't actually changing, rather his eyelashes were getting in the way. He was seeing jut how much he could limit his own vision while still technically seeing something.
It was nicer to focus on than the hurting, or how everyone was arguing and making up and making noise. Keegan was just trying to sink into himself, the irregular pressure of the plastic slats of the chair, the heavy heat of the robe coupled with the uncharacteristic softness of fabric that was not authentically scratchy burlap, the expansion and contraction of his lungs. Not the pain that came with it. Better to try to hone in on how his foot was a little stiff.
His eyes fully shut. He didn't say anything else, or intercede further. They had this.
And if they didn't, well, Keegan had already done his best.
It was nicer to focus on than the hurting, or how everyone was arguing and making up and making noise. Keegan was just trying to sink into himself, the irregular pressure of the plastic slats of the chair, the heavy heat of the robe coupled with the uncharacteristic softness of fabric that was not authentically scratchy burlap, the expansion and contraction of his lungs. Not the pain that came with it. Better to try to hone in on how his foot was a little stiff.
His eyes fully shut. He didn't say anything else, or intercede further. They had this.
And if they didn't, well, Keegan had already done his best.
Fisk kept his hands pressed down as he leaned on the table, his leg shaking. Vasily said he didn’t mean it, that it was anger born of worry, that he was sorry. Fisk looked up at James, and at his nose. He felt sick.
He was there when Giselle was snatched, and he was there when James got his shit rocked. Fisk felt sick.
Keegan was done mediating too. Now he was just quiet. After all of this, everyone and everything felt quiet. Fisk still felt sick.
“I-I’m sorry, too.”
Fisk took a deep breath, wiped his hand down his face. It felt like the world was on hold for an eternity. Fisk took another deep breath. He still had James to worry about, he could reflect on fuck ups later.
“Okay. Let’s get this shit over with.”
Fisk put pressure on James’ nose. He’d done this before, his dad broke his own nose that one time tripping up the stairs after returning from Dorsia red wine drunk and needed Fisk to help reset it before going to the doctor.
Fun time.
“Alright. This’ll be over before you know it. I’ll count to three, we’ll reset it, and then bandage it up. Coke’s still here if you need it once we’re done.”
“Ready?”
“Okay.”
“One.”
*CRACK.*
“Aaaaand we’re done! Told you, over before you know it, worst part’s done.”
He was there when Giselle was snatched, and he was there when James got his shit rocked. Fisk felt sick.
Keegan was done mediating too. Now he was just quiet. After all of this, everyone and everything felt quiet. Fisk still felt sick.
“I-I’m sorry, too.”
Fisk took a deep breath, wiped his hand down his face. It felt like the world was on hold for an eternity. Fisk took another deep breath. He still had James to worry about, he could reflect on fuck ups later.
“Okay. Let’s get this shit over with.”
Fisk put pressure on James’ nose. He’d done this before, his dad broke his own nose that one time tripping up the stairs after returning from Dorsia red wine drunk and needed Fisk to help reset it before going to the doctor.
Fun time.
“Alright. This’ll be over before you know it. I’ll count to three, we’ll reset it, and then bandage it up. Coke’s still here if you need it once we’re done.”
“Ready?”
“Okay.”
“One.”
*CRACK.*
“Aaaaand we’re done! Told you, over before you know it, worst part’s done.”
Catche thinks my squirrel is Fisk so here's my daily reminder that he is not.
Ah, so both of the people he’s talking to are giving him the silent treatment. Good. Great. Just great.
He put the last of his clothes on in silence and took a step closer to where Fisk jumped off.
He was doing coke again.
Vasily closed his eye.
Counted to five. Deep breaths. Everything’s fine.
Fisk just did cocaine, and he just murdered someone with him together, and he desecrated a corpse, but for now, for this very second, as far as he knew, he was fine. And then the next second.
Did Fisk know what happens when somebody takes cocaine? No, scratch that- did he know how it's made?
Vasily cried once over a documentary about children who collected coca leaves as a living. It was- there was this odd irony, in there- some sort of metaphor or symbolism that, if he thought harder about it, he could maybe appreciate. He just needed to be able to word that feeling impactfully, but there wasn't time and he just couldn't find the right words in his brain to connect those two concepts about children and danger and work and needless entertainment in a way that sounded right.
Open.
“We should probably go find Bacchia ASAP.”
His fingers clenched, energy waiting to be expressed. He grabbed his bag again.
Before he knew it, the remaining bag of his chips- the weapon that he was given- was in his hands, his fingers barely restraining themselves from clenching around it and crushing its contents.
Take. A. Breath.
His hand grabbed onto a single piece through the plastic bag. The feeling of it cracking and crumbling underneath his finger pads didn’t do anything to help calm him down.
“And maybe arrange a funeral for Giselle.”
He put the last of his clothes on in silence and took a step closer to where Fisk jumped off.
He was doing coke again.
Vasily closed his eye.
Counted to five. Deep breaths. Everything’s fine.
Fisk just did cocaine, and he just murdered someone with him together, and he desecrated a corpse, but for now, for this very second, as far as he knew, he was fine. And then the next second.
Did Fisk know what happens when somebody takes cocaine? No, scratch that- did he know how it's made?
Vasily cried once over a documentary about children who collected coca leaves as a living. It was- there was this odd irony, in there- some sort of metaphor or symbolism that, if he thought harder about it, he could maybe appreciate. He just needed to be able to word that feeling impactfully, but there wasn't time and he just couldn't find the right words in his brain to connect those two concepts about children and danger and work and needless entertainment in a way that sounded right.
Open.
“We should probably go find Bacchia ASAP.”
His fingers clenched, energy waiting to be expressed. He grabbed his bag again.
Before he knew it, the remaining bag of his chips- the weapon that he was given- was in his hands, his fingers barely restraining themselves from clenching around it and crushing its contents.
Take. A. Breath.
His hand grabbed onto a single piece through the plastic bag. The feeling of it cracking and crumbling underneath his finger pads didn’t do anything to help calm him down.
“And maybe arrange a funeral for Giselle.”