But I'm falling, deeper, help me, please.... (Active/OPEN)
Characters: Eva Lillian, Alphonse Elric, OPEN TO ANYONE. No need to ask first.
Setting: Greenhouse => East Hallway
Time: Juuuuust as Night 16 is falling.
Summary: Al and Eva decide to go hide in Al's room as night falls. Unfortunately, Plot frustrates their intentions. Needless to say, they're both extremely upset and scared shitless at this.
Warnings: Cursing, terrible things happening to lolis and presumably shotas as well, graphic descriptions of gore, probable extreme violence and death, Plot?
Eva was not feeling well.
To tell the truth, she hadn't been feeling well all week. She had been tense and uneasy, even outright jittery sometimes--and the fact that she kept losing time every so often was definitely not helping. The creeping sense of wrongness building up in the back of her mind was not reassuring in the slightest, either. Nor was the fact that she couldn't even explain why she said or did things sometimes, or went places, or even felt things--those strange feelings, the sensations, the compulsions.... It all worried her. She knew it must worry Al, too; she wished he didn't have to be a part of whatever was happening in here.
She was trying not to think about all of that right now, though. She was thinking instead about her newly full stomach, and the building headache that was apparently trying to conquer her skull by force, and how cold and tired she was, stiffly plodding through the waist-high path in the snow; if Al hadn't been so good with transmutation, then it probably would have been too deep to easily struggle through. She didn't like the thought of getting stuck in here.... This house really wanted to bury them, didn't it?
She took a deep breath, wincing a little at the stitch in her side as she slipped on a patch that felt more like ice than snow, and concluded her broken comment as she regained solid footing; a timely grab onto the wall of snow beside them kept her from doing anything but stumbling. "....but after that, it stopped."
Alphonse couldn't feel her emotions, not like he was sure he was supposed to; all he felt was that something was wrong, though he tried not to let it bother him too much. Even then, while he was talking warmly with his fated partner and newfound friend, he felt it and he couldn't help but be put off--to worry and be guarded. But at the same time, he was scared for her, worried for what it meant for her and if she would be okay. There was an overwhelming feeling of it being wrong, yes, but also that perhaps something wrong would happen to her and--and he didn't know what he would do if that really was the case.
But he couldn't feel her emotions, nor did she show visible cues that would make him think that anything was wrong at that particular moment, and so he tried not to let it bother him. They had eaten well and the ensuing conversation was enthralling enough, and he was oblivious, only moving toward her for a brief quick second when he vaguely noticed her slipping, but as she caught herself, it was all right, right? She continued on, and so, so did he, simply responding in turn casually enough. Luckily enough there wasn't too much trouble getting through, since he'd managed to clear at least a partial path, but it was obviously still awkward, so he watched his step as much as possible. "Really?" he asked, "That seems kind of weird."
"I know! Isn't it?" Eva offered a little breathless laugh as she smiled back at Al, letting one gloved hand trail along the snow wall to help her keep her balance. She wished they could build a fire in the Grand Room or something, but it was dusk already, and night was falling fast.... They had needed to hurry down to the kitchen for one last good meal before it was dark, and she was hoping that night wouldn't fall before they could make it up to their room. "But I guess after how everything ended up.... I mean, what else could it do, right? It is pretty weird, but...."
Alphonse shared in her laughter at the subject, finding it curious enough, and amused enough by it. He was focusing most of his attention on it, though he to was aptly aware of the shadows beginning to grow in the greenhouse, the sun barely visible despite the glass ceiling and walls. It would be dark soon, but he was sure they'd make it okay. There was only a little bit of time, but the room wasn't far, so they should be fine, he thought. "It sounds like it," he smiled, "I mean it's not like it could have gone on that much longer, right? That'd be unreasonable."
Eva grinned. "I guess even things that don't make any sense have to be reasonable, too." The cold air of the Greenhouse was starting to burn at her lungs; she would definitely be looking forward to burrowing under some blankets once they got back to the room. "Once everything settled down, I wanted to go see if I could find out more, but Sam told me not to. Not even Wikipedia or the library or anything! I think she was afraid we'd just seem crazy or something; she does that a lot."
"True enough." Alphonse agreed, laughing again, though he tried to piece together what she had said a little bit. Wikipedia was a term unfamiliar to him, though he could guess it must have been some sort of encyclopedia just by the suffix. "And that was probably for the best--I mean, no one would believe it, right? So it might be a bit suspicious." He nodded firmly, before he glanced outside and then at the snow and said, quickly, "We should hurry up a little bit." and began to do just that.
"Y-yeah...." The conversation fell from Eva's mind almost immediately as she followed Alphonse's gaze; the sun was sinking behind the horizon entirely. They would need to hurry if they wanted to get back; night would be starting any minute now, and--
--and her lungs were still burning, even as the scrambling pair made it out of the Greenhouse and started down the hall. Not even just the accustomed sting, but--but it felt like an actual, searing pain rippling through her chest, and her throat felt tight, so tight it was hard to speak, and it felt like an icy something--not claws, not tentacles, even a hand, but something, some presence or force--was squeezing her heart in its grasp, constricting and trying to crush it--her--outright. The wrongness was surging harder and higher than ever, twisting inside and through her like a shard of ice, like she was being wrung out completely, and she wondered numbly if she might not drown in it before they even made it upstairs. It hurt....
Night had arrived faster than he'd anticipated--maybe he'd not been watching close enough, or maybe it was different, but the reason at the moment was irrelevant, because it was all ready there and that was the important part. "Come on." he said, voice reaching a sudden low urgency, reaching for her hand to make sure they didn't get separated, and beginning to pick his pace up significantly. He felt something horribly wrong, somehow worse than ever before, but he couldn't help but associate it--at least in part--with the coming night. He just knew that they wouldn't be safe there--or perhaps anywhere--and they had to fix that.
Eva met him halfway, grasping his hand tightly--tighter than she had meant to, as she felt the cold, nauseating pain plunge down through the depths of her stomach, flooding through her arms and legs, prodding the budding headache she had been nursing into an out and out migraine. She wasn't sure if her eyes were burning from pain or tears, or which was making her vision blur; all she knew was that whatever this was, whatever the week's slow buildup had been, the low burn had suddenly leapt up into a blaze. It was fast becoming overwhelming, and frankly, it was starting to prod her towards outright terror, even before any of the nighttime creatures came out.
Her voice, when she did manage to speak, sounded unnaturally small and fragile, brittle and strained like fracturing glass. "Alphonse...."
Alphonse tensed a little bit, surprised at Eva's grip on his hand, coming not only sooner than expected but much more forceful than expected. It made him think of fear--like how he would cling to his brother or mother as a child when he was afraid. The fact that that thought came first did not reassure him, even less so when Eva's voice finally reached his ears, strained and painful, proving her to really be afraid, it seemed. Something was wrong, he was sure--the feeling of Wrong persisted, Eva was terrified. Alphonse did not trust this in the least.
Alphonse halted where he was and moved to face Eva completely, turning her and reaching up to grab her shoulder gently with his other hand. He didn't believe that waiting around as night hit was a good idea--but he wouldn't let them move on until he addressed this and made sure his friend was okay. If something came, he would simply protect her, that was all there was to it.
"Eva?" he asked, voice showing his concern plain as day, "What's wrong?"
"Hurts." In the end, it was an effort even to manage a single word, breathless though it was; she almost gagged on it, throat tightening, chest constricting, heart churning and twisting as her stomach seemed to try and turn itself inside out. Her legs shook beneath her even just standing still now, and she wasn't quite sure if she could move further, even if she wanted to run, to get away from here, to just be hiding in their room and find some way to shut the world out for a while. She wanted it out....
"I-I...." It felt like it was definitely trying to come out, too, just from trying to speak again, this coldsickhorrible rush.... She hardly was aware of the tears that had started to fall; there were more important things to take note of.
Like the fact that her hand in Alphonse's was becoming unnaturally cold, and soft.
"Where does it hurt?" Alphonse asked, almost mothering, his voice heavy with his concern for her. He could even tell she wasn't doing so well speaking but it was important he understand what was going on so that he could try to help her. His grip on her was strong, a good effort made to keep her steady, because he wasn't confident on how she was holding out, but he listened closely for the moment to what she had to say, broken though the word coming out was. And tears were falling--he made an effort to reassure her, "It'll be okay, Eva." he said, firmly, squeezing her hand gently--and suddenly quite aware of what was wrong with it.
He could only partially feel it through his glove, but his fingers were definitely colder than they should be, and her grip was much less firm. Holding tight, but with less substance.
"Eva," he said, unable to stop the panic from coming into his voice, "What's going on?"
"I don't know...." The words came in a hot, slippery rush as the tears fell in earnest, spurred on by the wrenching horror flooding through her. Her hand felt almost spongy in his grasp, glove looking altogether like it was starting to moulder away. But it was soaking through even so, as Alphonse squeezed, fluid oozing out onto his hand, slick and warm and glistening, starting to congeal and grow sticky as it cooled. It smelled foul, and probably intimately familiar--something he himself had lived with for months.
She was rotting in his hand.
It was an unintentional gesture, but at first Alphonse jerked his hand away as his squeeze caused liquid to soak through onto his glove. It was something like revulsion for his immediate first response, an instinct that he couldn't help but that he regretted immediately all the same. He was quick to realise what was happening--he understood and he empathized completely. And that was the part that was worst for him. He immediately moved to hug her, before lifting her off the ground without a word--beginning to move fast for the door, though with enough caution to try and avoid slipping on the ice. He had to get her out of here--to their room or somewhere safe where he could try to help her.
A short, stifled gasp, as the ruined glove came away with Alphonse's hand, dripping rotting fluids and blood; a long, flagging strip of skin dangled from inside it, clearly matched by the raw, oozing wound on the back of her hand. The lifting was awkward, considering how close in size they were, but Eva clung to Al, trying to make it easier for him to hold her, even clothes that were looking decidedly more tattered by the second started to soak through with blood.
This was bad.
Alphonse had winced when he saw the strip of flesh and blood, his guilt still welling from his reaction, but he wouldn't dwell on that--he had to get her out of here, and fast, and that was what was most important. He didn't know if they'd be safe here, or what he could do for her, but if he got her to their room--no, maybe he should detour to the surgery room in the basement, or at least into a bathroom so that he could get her some bandages or something. It was going far too quickly--faster than any rot he'd ever had to deal with. There had to be something he could do, some way to make this better.
He held tightly to her, making sure she was secure and safe for the moment as he hurried, all but running to the greenhouse door. "It'll be okay," he managed out between hard breaths, reassuring her the absolute best he could, despite how he felt--not even thinking about how she could feel what he felt. "I'll take care of you."
This was very, very bad.
Alphonse's turmoil only fed Eva's panic, made the terrifying whirl of circumstance even more dizzying; she could feel the rock and heave as he nearly ran, pressed tight against his chest. At any other time, she would have worried about him slipping and falling, about being too heavy, about this happening as night was falling, of all things....
Instead, she could only whimper and cling to his coat, eliciting a wet tearing noise; her nails were coming out of their moorings entirely as she tried to grip, a handful of pale, curved translucent shells tumbling bloodily down his chest, trailing short, dripping fringes of raw nerves as they went.
Alphonse winced quite visibly at the sound, a sick gut feeling arriving in the pit of his stomach at just the sound of it, though for the moment he didn't know what it was--when he looked down and saw the nails falling to the ground, the blood on her hands and on his coat. He almost felt like he felt the pain at the shock of it, disgust and fear welling up with the growing sick feeling. He froze in place at that, for a moment. This was not going well. He was panicking and needed a better solution. Maybe he should--should get the bandaids and bring them back to her. Maybe that way she'd be better off, less strained. But at the same time he couldn't leave her alone as the night began to hit.
This was just plain bad.
((OOC: Okay, guys, this is going to be a Pime Taradox thread so whoever wants to get in on the action can do so; separate threads for each group meeting them, and backlogging is allowed. Any questions, please feel free to ask! =3))
Setting: Greenhouse => East Hallway
Time: Juuuuust as Night 16 is falling.
Summary: Al and Eva decide to go hide in Al's room as night falls. Unfortunately, Plot frustrates their intentions. Needless to say, they're both extremely upset and scared shitless at this.
Warnings: Cursing, terrible things happening to lolis and presumably shotas as well, graphic descriptions of gore, probable extreme violence and death, Plot?
Eva was not feeling well.
To tell the truth, she hadn't been feeling well all week. She had been tense and uneasy, even outright jittery sometimes--and the fact that she kept losing time every so often was definitely not helping. The creeping sense of wrongness building up in the back of her mind was not reassuring in the slightest, either. Nor was the fact that she couldn't even explain why she said or did things sometimes, or went places, or even felt things--those strange feelings, the sensations, the compulsions.... It all worried her. She knew it must worry Al, too; she wished he didn't have to be a part of whatever was happening in here.
She was trying not to think about all of that right now, though. She was thinking instead about her newly full stomach, and the building headache that was apparently trying to conquer her skull by force, and how cold and tired she was, stiffly plodding through the waist-high path in the snow; if Al hadn't been so good with transmutation, then it probably would have been too deep to easily struggle through. She didn't like the thought of getting stuck in here.... This house really wanted to bury them, didn't it?
She took a deep breath, wincing a little at the stitch in her side as she slipped on a patch that felt more like ice than snow, and concluded her broken comment as she regained solid footing; a timely grab onto the wall of snow beside them kept her from doing anything but stumbling. "....but after that, it stopped."
Alphonse couldn't feel her emotions, not like he was sure he was supposed to; all he felt was that something was wrong, though he tried not to let it bother him too much. Even then, while he was talking warmly with his fated partner and newfound friend, he felt it and he couldn't help but be put off--to worry and be guarded. But at the same time, he was scared for her, worried for what it meant for her and if she would be okay. There was an overwhelming feeling of it being wrong, yes, but also that perhaps something wrong would happen to her and--and he didn't know what he would do if that really was the case.
But he couldn't feel her emotions, nor did she show visible cues that would make him think that anything was wrong at that particular moment, and so he tried not to let it bother him. They had eaten well and the ensuing conversation was enthralling enough, and he was oblivious, only moving toward her for a brief quick second when he vaguely noticed her slipping, but as she caught herself, it was all right, right? She continued on, and so, so did he, simply responding in turn casually enough. Luckily enough there wasn't too much trouble getting through, since he'd managed to clear at least a partial path, but it was obviously still awkward, so he watched his step as much as possible. "Really?" he asked, "That seems kind of weird."
"I know! Isn't it?" Eva offered a little breathless laugh as she smiled back at Al, letting one gloved hand trail along the snow wall to help her keep her balance. She wished they could build a fire in the Grand Room or something, but it was dusk already, and night was falling fast.... They had needed to hurry down to the kitchen for one last good meal before it was dark, and she was hoping that night wouldn't fall before they could make it up to their room. "But I guess after how everything ended up.... I mean, what else could it do, right? It is pretty weird, but...."
Alphonse shared in her laughter at the subject, finding it curious enough, and amused enough by it. He was focusing most of his attention on it, though he to was aptly aware of the shadows beginning to grow in the greenhouse, the sun barely visible despite the glass ceiling and walls. It would be dark soon, but he was sure they'd make it okay. There was only a little bit of time, but the room wasn't far, so they should be fine, he thought. "It sounds like it," he smiled, "I mean it's not like it could have gone on that much longer, right? That'd be unreasonable."
Eva grinned. "I guess even things that don't make any sense have to be reasonable, too." The cold air of the Greenhouse was starting to burn at her lungs; she would definitely be looking forward to burrowing under some blankets once they got back to the room. "Once everything settled down, I wanted to go see if I could find out more, but Sam told me not to. Not even Wikipedia or the library or anything! I think she was afraid we'd just seem crazy or something; she does that a lot."
"True enough." Alphonse agreed, laughing again, though he tried to piece together what she had said a little bit. Wikipedia was a term unfamiliar to him, though he could guess it must have been some sort of encyclopedia just by the suffix. "And that was probably for the best--I mean, no one would believe it, right? So it might be a bit suspicious." He nodded firmly, before he glanced outside and then at the snow and said, quickly, "We should hurry up a little bit." and began to do just that.
"Y-yeah...." The conversation fell from Eva's mind almost immediately as she followed Alphonse's gaze; the sun was sinking behind the horizon entirely. They would need to hurry if they wanted to get back; night would be starting any minute now, and--
--and her lungs were still burning, even as the scrambling pair made it out of the Greenhouse and started down the hall. Not even just the accustomed sting, but--but it felt like an actual, searing pain rippling through her chest, and her throat felt tight, so tight it was hard to speak, and it felt like an icy something--not claws, not tentacles, even a hand, but something, some presence or force--was squeezing her heart in its grasp, constricting and trying to crush it--her--outright. The wrongness was surging harder and higher than ever, twisting inside and through her like a shard of ice, like she was being wrung out completely, and she wondered numbly if she might not drown in it before they even made it upstairs. It hurt....
Night had arrived faster than he'd anticipated--maybe he'd not been watching close enough, or maybe it was different, but the reason at the moment was irrelevant, because it was all ready there and that was the important part. "Come on." he said, voice reaching a sudden low urgency, reaching for her hand to make sure they didn't get separated, and beginning to pick his pace up significantly. He felt something horribly wrong, somehow worse than ever before, but he couldn't help but associate it--at least in part--with the coming night. He just knew that they wouldn't be safe there--or perhaps anywhere--and they had to fix that.
Eva met him halfway, grasping his hand tightly--tighter than she had meant to, as she felt the cold, nauseating pain plunge down through the depths of her stomach, flooding through her arms and legs, prodding the budding headache she had been nursing into an out and out migraine. She wasn't sure if her eyes were burning from pain or tears, or which was making her vision blur; all she knew was that whatever this was, whatever the week's slow buildup had been, the low burn had suddenly leapt up into a blaze. It was fast becoming overwhelming, and frankly, it was starting to prod her towards outright terror, even before any of the nighttime creatures came out.
Her voice, when she did manage to speak, sounded unnaturally small and fragile, brittle and strained like fracturing glass. "Alphonse...."
Alphonse tensed a little bit, surprised at Eva's grip on his hand, coming not only sooner than expected but much more forceful than expected. It made him think of fear--like how he would cling to his brother or mother as a child when he was afraid. The fact that that thought came first did not reassure him, even less so when Eva's voice finally reached his ears, strained and painful, proving her to really be afraid, it seemed. Something was wrong, he was sure--the feeling of Wrong persisted, Eva was terrified. Alphonse did not trust this in the least.
Alphonse halted where he was and moved to face Eva completely, turning her and reaching up to grab her shoulder gently with his other hand. He didn't believe that waiting around as night hit was a good idea--but he wouldn't let them move on until he addressed this and made sure his friend was okay. If something came, he would simply protect her, that was all there was to it.
"Eva?" he asked, voice showing his concern plain as day, "What's wrong?"
"Hurts." In the end, it was an effort even to manage a single word, breathless though it was; she almost gagged on it, throat tightening, chest constricting, heart churning and twisting as her stomach seemed to try and turn itself inside out. Her legs shook beneath her even just standing still now, and she wasn't quite sure if she could move further, even if she wanted to run, to get away from here, to just be hiding in their room and find some way to shut the world out for a while. She wanted it out....
"I-I...." It felt like it was definitely trying to come out, too, just from trying to speak again, this coldsickhorrible rush.... She hardly was aware of the tears that had started to fall; there were more important things to take note of.
Like the fact that her hand in Alphonse's was becoming unnaturally cold, and soft.
"Where does it hurt?" Alphonse asked, almost mothering, his voice heavy with his concern for her. He could even tell she wasn't doing so well speaking but it was important he understand what was going on so that he could try to help her. His grip on her was strong, a good effort made to keep her steady, because he wasn't confident on how she was holding out, but he listened closely for the moment to what she had to say, broken though the word coming out was. And tears were falling--he made an effort to reassure her, "It'll be okay, Eva." he said, firmly, squeezing her hand gently--and suddenly quite aware of what was wrong with it.
He could only partially feel it through his glove, but his fingers were definitely colder than they should be, and her grip was much less firm. Holding tight, but with less substance.
"Eva," he said, unable to stop the panic from coming into his voice, "What's going on?"
"I don't know...." The words came in a hot, slippery rush as the tears fell in earnest, spurred on by the wrenching horror flooding through her. Her hand felt almost spongy in his grasp, glove looking altogether like it was starting to moulder away. But it was soaking through even so, as Alphonse squeezed, fluid oozing out onto his hand, slick and warm and glistening, starting to congeal and grow sticky as it cooled. It smelled foul, and probably intimately familiar--something he himself had lived with for months.
She was rotting in his hand.
It was an unintentional gesture, but at first Alphonse jerked his hand away as his squeeze caused liquid to soak through onto his glove. It was something like revulsion for his immediate first response, an instinct that he couldn't help but that he regretted immediately all the same. He was quick to realise what was happening--he understood and he empathized completely. And that was the part that was worst for him. He immediately moved to hug her, before lifting her off the ground without a word--beginning to move fast for the door, though with enough caution to try and avoid slipping on the ice. He had to get her out of here--to their room or somewhere safe where he could try to help her.
A short, stifled gasp, as the ruined glove came away with Alphonse's hand, dripping rotting fluids and blood; a long, flagging strip of skin dangled from inside it, clearly matched by the raw, oozing wound on the back of her hand. The lifting was awkward, considering how close in size they were, but Eva clung to Al, trying to make it easier for him to hold her, even clothes that were looking decidedly more tattered by the second started to soak through with blood.
This was bad.
Alphonse had winced when he saw the strip of flesh and blood, his guilt still welling from his reaction, but he wouldn't dwell on that--he had to get her out of here, and fast, and that was what was most important. He didn't know if they'd be safe here, or what he could do for her, but if he got her to their room--no, maybe he should detour to the surgery room in the basement, or at least into a bathroom so that he could get her some bandages or something. It was going far too quickly--faster than any rot he'd ever had to deal with. There had to be something he could do, some way to make this better.
He held tightly to her, making sure she was secure and safe for the moment as he hurried, all but running to the greenhouse door. "It'll be okay," he managed out between hard breaths, reassuring her the absolute best he could, despite how he felt--not even thinking about how she could feel what he felt. "I'll take care of you."
This was very, very bad.
Alphonse's turmoil only fed Eva's panic, made the terrifying whirl of circumstance even more dizzying; she could feel the rock and heave as he nearly ran, pressed tight against his chest. At any other time, she would have worried about him slipping and falling, about being too heavy, about this happening as night was falling, of all things....
Instead, she could only whimper and cling to his coat, eliciting a wet tearing noise; her nails were coming out of their moorings entirely as she tried to grip, a handful of pale, curved translucent shells tumbling bloodily down his chest, trailing short, dripping fringes of raw nerves as they went.
Alphonse winced quite visibly at the sound, a sick gut feeling arriving in the pit of his stomach at just the sound of it, though for the moment he didn't know what it was--when he looked down and saw the nails falling to the ground, the blood on her hands and on his coat. He almost felt like he felt the pain at the shock of it, disgust and fear welling up with the growing sick feeling. He froze in place at that, for a moment. This was not going well. He was panicking and needed a better solution. Maybe he should--should get the bandaids and bring them back to her. Maybe that way she'd be better off, less strained. But at the same time he couldn't leave her alone as the night began to hit.
This was just plain bad.
((OOC: Okay, guys, this is going to be a Pime Taradox thread so whoever wants to get in on the action can do so; separate threads for each group meeting them, and backlogging is allowed. Any questions, please feel free to ask! =3))