I believe in you Complete/Closed

[sleepy_fire]

Characters: Ace, Machi
Setting: Moving around, then Cricket Bedroom
Time: Day 14 about midway through
Summary: Ace find clothes and a little bit of plot before returning home. Startish point of weird CR.
Warnings: Machi, Ace. Though Ace is unlikely to say a curse word in this

Comments

[machitobaye]

Machi lay sleeping under the bed, the darkness and shelter offering small comfort against the wracking pain, but exhaustion perpetually dragged him down through the pale edge of consciousness and he curled in on himself, agony and grief buried by the emptiness of sleep. The others were gone, leaving him a rare period of true rest, marred by the expectation of their eventual return and the pressure and strain of their constant, inexporable physical presence. He drifted in and out and his breath rose and fell, a slow, steady motion that kept rhythm silently against the cacophanous chorus of phantasmal crickets. Hours passed before it was broken, before something--dust or saliva or air or horror--touched the inside of his throat and caught it, seizing memory and injury as the muscles spasmed and closed, raw, the hypersensitive reflex sealing it, cutting off his air and pulling at his esophagus. Suddenly he couldn't breathe--he strangled, choking on nothing, tearing back awake with a surge of terror and memory and panic and

[sleepy_fire]

He felt better

[machitobaye]

Machi jerked and pulled back further under the mattress at Ace's entrance, but he could probably be seen under the bedframe, the cold edge of his sunglasses reflecting the light back from the door as he watched Ace warily, a growl stopped in his throat as his twisted shoulder bent to accomodate the angle. It cracked slightly, pushing against the muscle of his neck, and pain radiated up into his skull, a sharp shooting razor of agony that made him flinch and press down, grinding his teeth against the pain. The affliction, such as it was, was centered in his limbs and head, his joints, the torturous ache of muscle and affliction of bone, while his brain crawled and crackled with urges he couldn't fight, didn't want to--to protect himself, to keep them away despite the thin, silvery noose that trailed from his throat and through the wall, an aethereal line that linked him internally with Yukimi and forced him into the man's head... and Yukimi into his

[sleepy_fire]

Ace turned around, facing the bed but not closing the distance between them. Machi was so guarded, so ready to fight first and ask questions later. Made him wonder what had been in that shot they'd shoved into his head. His had granted him the ability to read the mind of the quite ghost girl and then, Machi. It could be soft as a whisper, convincing him and pulling him in, or as sharp as a punch to the gut, overwhelming until all he *could* do was react. But Machi was always there, and he couldn't escape him without leaving the room

[machitobaye]

Machi bristled as Ace approached, or tried to, not having the necessary musculature. Instead he stiffened, bunching his shoulders with a cracking of bone as Ace produced an object--something--with cut corners and a strong smell of dust and wood and lacquer. He bit back the instinct and blinked, confused, as the pirate wound it, listening warily to the grind of tiny gears.

Then he opened it up.

Sound. Machi flinched, then hiss eyes widened slightly as a melody, simple and bell-like, emanated from the tiny structure, progressing into a layered, rhythmic, beautiful song that filled the thin space of air between them. He listened, frozen, in silence as the chimes struck him, settling into his mind and pericing the fog, penetrating through the thick wall of instinct and pain with sound to stroke a chord deep under everything conscious and brush the subconscious below.