down where the river bends, nobody's waiting

[bloodycrescents]

For a little while after I wake up, I figure I'm imagining most of this stuff, so it doesn't bother me the way showing up in that supply closet on the island did. The room - the entire little apartment - isn't too different from the place I had yesterday, except that the bathroom is worse and there's a kitchen I don't know how to use and it's an

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[rage_andlove]

The clothes are fucking irritating and his prosthetic and these boots don't really get along and he keeps almost losing his footing. In fact, right when he sees Harley, his sole slips and he almost goes down altogether. He grabs for the nearest railing and more or less manages to stay on his feet.

"Motherfucker."

[bloodycrescents]

I don't even think before I'm up on my feet, crossing over to make sure he's fine, even though he's already caught himself. "Shit, man," I say, "you alright?"

It's almost enough to make me feel a little better. I mean, I like Tunny alright, I don't want anything bad to happen to him or anything, but he looks about as ridiculous as I feel in these clothes and misery loves company, right? I'm still pissed as hell, but at least I'm not the only one.

[rage_andlove]

"Yeah," he says, shifting his weight cautiously, testing the sole of his boot against the slick cobbles. He makes a face and reaches out to steady himself with a hand on his shoulder.

"This isn't motherfucking funny."

[bloodycrescents]

"Yeah, tell me about it," I say, reaching up to rest a hand on Tunny's arm, help steady him. It's a dick move, making us live somewhere that's all cobblestones and ice and shit when just dealing with a lost limb on an island's gotta be tough enough, but then, the island's idea of a joke seems to be fucking us over. "Shit, we've got to get you, like... I don't know, crutches with snowshoes on them or something like that."

[findherwayback]

That morning Thalia had nearly had a heart attack when she had woken up. Gone was the comfortable, if messy, trailer she had lived in. The shock to wake up in a building that was complete and whole and didn't have curved walls was something else. This was definitely different from last year right down to the fact that all of her clothes have changed. Right down her beloved leather jacket that had been with her for years. It was definitely not the easiest change

[bloodycrescents]

It's such an understatement, I start laughing, a hysterical edge in my voice that'd probably scare off a lot of people. Thalia's not one of them, and it's better than crying.

"Fuck," I say, "no, no, I'm not."

For a flash, I'm angry with her for pulling me back into focus, because suddenly it hurts so much just to be here. This isn't life, this isn't how it's supposed to work, and I don't know where I am or how I got here or how she found me, and I don't want to be relieved it's her, but I am.

[findherwayback]

The tone of his laughter didn't even make Thalia hesitate or flinch. It was a reaction, one real and born of shock. The sort of the thing that she knew incredibly well. It felt like choking, too thick to swallow and far too real. Her own shock had been enough and it was her second December in this place, but that didn't make Harley's any less reasonable.

With the same amount of caution and care that she reserved for approaching dangerous animals, her gloved hands extended slightly in front of her as she came to stand next to him. She didn't touch him, merely stopped within his personal space which could either end very well or terribly.

"Too many buildings. The smell, the fog, the clothes," she listed nodding slightly. "What happened? Beyond the obvious. You can tell me."

[bloodycrescents]

She's so close I feel her presence like a tangible tension on my skin, one that has me close to boiling over. I hunch forward, and it's as much to keep her from seeing my face as it is because there's something pulling inside me and for a moment it feels like doing that might make it stop. I don't even know what she's talking about at first. I haven't paid any attention to the world around me, and now I'm kicking myself for it. I should have been paying attention, looking where I was going, where I fucking am. I don't have the first idea. I don't even know where it is I live now

[everyone_takes]

Kate had never been anywhere outside of Kansas. St. Louis barely counted at all and she'd sure as hell never been to Europe, even though it had been on the list, buried somewhere between Japan and Australia, but she was pretty sure this wasn't what London would have looked like if she'd hopped a plane when she turned eighteen. The clothes definitely weren't right, but they were the only clothes she'd been able to find

[bloodycrescents]

She startles me, sitting down like that, the sudden flounce of fabric nearly making me laugh. I almost want to thank her for that.

"You look like more dress than girl," I tell her, because there's no point in pretending otherwise. She looks pretty, actually, but like she's in a play or something. She doesn't really look like Kate. "Jeez, and I thought this shit was bad." At least it should keep her warm. I can feel the cold biting through my clothes, snow in my hair and on my neck, melting and sliding down my neck, and I think how, if I'd just sat her long enough, I might've died and not even known it. Except it isn't really as cold as that yet and I don't really care enough to put on more of those idiotic clothes. I kind of wish I could get Amber to dress the way Kate's dressed now, though, and fucking cover up for a change. "It's like you've got your own personal tent you're wearing around."

[everyone_takes]

"Oh, thanks," Kate said as she rolled her eyes, but she was laughing, too. That was exactly how she felt and this was definitely the least puffy of all the dresses she'd found in her closet that morning. At least she hadn't put on that stupid little black hat that she'd found in place of the awesome scarf she'd traded some clothes for at the boutique. That was just going too far.

"You look cold," she pointed out, fluffing her skirt out until the side of it was lying over Harley's lap like a blanket. "I mean, Jesus Christ, what the hell is this shit?" It was London, obviously, which was insane enough, but she didn't get the whole switching of clothes. "My hut is totally not a hut anymore and none of my clothes are the same. I guess you got stuck with the same thing, too, huh?"

[bloodycrescents]

"Never thought I'd be thankful for a girl wearing more clothes," I joke, slipping my hands under the protection of her skirts. I never thought I'd put my hands under a skirt without trying to get up it, for that matter. I still feel like total shit, but it's amazing how much it helps to have someone to commiserate with. I guess back home I got used to keeping shit to myself, and it's not like I'm about to go around running my mouth about everything here, but the thing is, it kind of feels like, if I did, there are people who'd listen. It used to be there was just Skip, and even he was just there by default.

"Yeah, it's... fuck," I say, shaking my head. "It took everything. Even the shit I showed up with. I didn't know that would happen." I knew there was going to be a winter, I heard enough people talking about that. No one told me everything was just going to disappear.

[madeuptoerase]

It's all more than a little strange, and more than Carla Jean has any desire to deal with. Had it just been the customary December snow that people talked about, she thinks she'd have been fine; it snowed on occasion in Sanderson, when it got cold enough to, so although she knows she would've preferred the warm weather, it's not like it would have been that big a deal. This, though, is something else entirely, and even if it weren't so goddamn disorienting to wake up with everything around her having changed (and the past couple days have been unsettling enough as it is), she would still find it all unnecessary, frustrating to say the least.

Just figuring out what to do with the clothes that suddenly made up her wardrobe was difficult enough, and now that she has, having reluctantly accepted that she wasn't going to find anything that didn't look like it came out of a history book, she isn't any more pleased about it. She's not cut out for all these frills and laces and long skirts, and she thinks it shows, too, though she's gone

[bloodycrescents]

I almost can't see Carla Jean for all the layers she's got on. I'm grateful it's her, though, with a sudden tightness in my chest that isn't much different from the hurt that's buried itself there and refused to let go. If there's anyone I know who's not going to judge me for looking about as crazy as I feel, it's probably her. It isn't that she doesn't get worked up about anything, but Carla Jean just seems to take the world in stride in a way I don't know how to do. Sometimes it's frustrating as hell, something so calm about her I want to shatter the peace, but mostly it's kind of soothing. She cracks a dry smile, says something wry, and you forget you were ever jealous at all.

"That's a word for it," I say. I guess the other reason I don't hate her for it is because I trust it. She's not all fake about it like some people who pretend they've got the world figured out. She doesn't and she's not fussed about it and that's that. "I was thinking more like 'fucked up.'"

[madeuptoerase]

Carla Jean tips her head back and lets out a laugh, one that's entirely mirthless, a little sharper than she means it to be. So maybe she's reeling a little still, her head still spinning with what Sean told her and with the words she threw herself into reading yesterday, details about her husband's death and the three others who got caught in the crossfire, the name Anton Chigurh. It's still not aimed at Harley, understanding more than anything else. She doesn't usually soften her words, but she thinks that in this case, she probably ought to have gone for something a little stronger herself.

"Think you might be right about that," she says, tone more certain than the words themselves imply. She'll get where she's going eventually (or at least she had better), but this is all unfamiliar, unnecessary, and she's in no mood to hide her sullenness. She probably wouldn't have bothered anyway. "I don't know where who or whatever gets off thinkin' it's alright to change everything like this, but it ain't."

[bloodycrescents]

I look at her for a little while, and I don't know if it's just the weather or what, but I know the feeling. I don't want to pry yet, so I shift further down the bench, reaching over to dust off some of the snow and shaking off what's clinging to me like I'm a wet dog. Nodding to the free space for her to sit, I slip my hands back in my pockets. There's nothing right about this except what she's saying. That's no reason she should be alone with it.

"It gives you one place to figure out and then it pulls this bullshit," I agree, hunching in on myself for warmth. There were a lot of clothes in my closet when I woke up, but most of it was too much to bother with. I still should have taken a little more time to see if I had anything warmer, or at least had the sense not to sit around in the cold for God only knows how long without moving. "You lose something?"

[pylean_cow]

There's been another dimensional shift.

When Fred woke in the building that used to be the compound, her clothes have changed and her room have changed. The writing still on the wall of what's now a small apartment's the only thing that initially convinces her that she's still on some version of the island, and that she hasn't been transported to another dimension entirely.

It's only after wrestling with the clothes box for nearly an hour that she finds something to wear that doesn't have come with some weird girdle. Maybe they're technically men's clothes, but Fred's not really sure that she's ready to commit to the sheer number of layers required for everything else. She's from Texas, after all.

Out exploring the newly-changed island- she wants to know just how far the city goes- she pauses when she spots a familiar face on the street.

"Crazy weather, huh?" she comments, aware of how cliche it sounds, '"I think it might actually have rained Victorian buildings overnight."

[bloodycrescents]

The joke's so ridiculous I actually laugh, short but genuine. I almost wish one of them had fallen on me instead of around me, but I don't need to tell Fred that.

"Is that what this is?" I ask her. I should probably stand up or something, but I've been sitting her long enough I feel too cold to bother moving. It's a sign I should get up and run around or something, I know that much, but I'm pretty sure I'd just slip and fall on my face anyway. Something about her comment makes me feel a little calmer, though. This isn't completely unexpected. I just didn't realize what was happening. I'm still pissed about the coat, but at least one thing sort of makes sense. "I heard things changed. Shit. I didn't know what happened."

[pylean_cow]

"Yep," Fred replies, "it's too bad though, I heard we lost a few people when that building over there came in."

She points to a nearby building, just the first one her finger lands on, and looks back at him, expression sad. If the island's going to throw this at them every few months, then the least she can do is try to be lighthearted about it. At least this time, it doesn't seem like any of them are in any imminent danger or under threat of attack. The weird shopkeepers are more eerie than anything else.

[bloodycrescents]

"Tragedy," I answer with a shake of my head. I wouldn't be too surprised if something like that actually happened sometime, but the dark humor suits my mood pretty perfectly right now. Actually, it kind of makes me feel a little better. It doesn't fix shit, but at least I don't have to think about what's not being fixed. "We barely had people as it was."

I think about it a moment and then I get up, brushing the snow off. I don't know if I'm going anywhere or what, but if I keep just sitting around, I'm going to wind up freezing and everything's bad enough without that. "You figure out the way around this place yet?"