APPLE ORCHARDS AND TORN DREAMS [OPEN]

[cordibus]

Who: Open Log (All)
Where: Around the city (one prompt at the Green Valley school
Summary: Welcome Ceremonies, Dreams, Stirring a shadow hornet's nest. No big deal.
Warnings: N/A

"Are you ready my black lambs? Let's get to work..."

Apple Picking (General Prompt)

As September begins, the apple orchards of Greenfield Valley school are bursting with thousands of apples of various flavors and colors. There's even an experimental breed that's blue!

Those who have been attending the school know that this means a few important things. The first (and most important of course) is that it means that fall vacation is coming in just a few weeks (despite school having started just a few weeks ago), the second is that the school's menu is going to have a high number of apple-themed dishes until winter, and finally, the opening ceremonies.

The opening ceremonies are - well - one would consider them mostly boring for typical schools. And truth be told, Green Valley is not an exception. A single camera posed at the school's main gymnasium, a large podium in the center. For those who can't be physically there, the school's televisions all synchronized to a live broadcast as does the audio feeds. You can't quite escape it. Yet most people don't - after all it's one of the rare times of the year where the principal appears to wish students good fortune.

The person who stands in the front, Ms Michelle Andersen, is the very definition of an ice queen. Her face is perhaps locked forever into an emotionless stare. Bright blonde hair with blue eyes, both contract to her orange and black outfit.

Behind her, three men, the vice principals, who tend to play the good cops to her bad cop routine and insist that most students call them by their first names unless something really bad has happened; Norman (the most average man on campus that no one would know who he was if it wasn't for his name tag), Jeremy (the tallest staff member standing at over 195cm, thin, a bit of a lisp but he always means well), and Felix (possibly the hairiest man on campus as far as the rumors go, muscular, and a black beard that matches his scowling face when he isn't laughing - which is usually all the time. In fact, he's holding back himself from doing so when Ms. Andersen speaks.)

The presentation is short, as the Principal wishes all the students a great year, gives a bit of data on the number of students (they are up 300 new students from last year), the number of important guests that have passed, then as quickly as she was there, she leaves, explaining that there are additional meetings and events she will explain in greatest detail in the upcoming months.

Afterwards the students are treated to the vice principals singing a welcome song (it goes as well as one would expect it to go), telling the students that they are free to pick as many apples as they want as long as they all get eaten, but everyone is limited to two of the new apples and report to the hospital wards if any of them feel anything unusual after eating them. Just in case.

When the ceremonies are done, students and staff can return to their day...although some of the staff can be heard commenting that the Principal seemed even more...cold this year. Of course asking them for details would just cause them to shoo anyone away and pretend they didn't say anything.

[OOC: Players are welcome to speak to themselves or go have some apples. It's a general school mingling prompt! Additionally, it will be possible to email the vice principals during that week should the characters want to talk with them or ask school questions. Typical school stuff.]

Sound the Rebellion

(Special Prompt for the Unawakened, Monday the 4th)
The school's opening ceremonies aside, the Unawakened’s Monday was rather...strange. The night was plagued with restlessness as they heard the voice of someone laughing. Waking up feeling 'odd', although that differed between all of then - some would feel sick, others have a headache, or some just deciding that wearing a piece of clothing they haven't wanted to worn would look great right now. Perhaps they got a few comments from their relatives about how strange they were acting that day, or a worried glance if they felt sick. It might get dismissed with a wave of a hand.

After all, how can you explain that when they sometimes look upwards, they hear the sound of a child laughing and briefly see a symbol above their heads? Or that this somehow feels...fine?

Maybe in their new state of mind, they might not even notice the people that keep following them around...

Better than a GPS

(Awakened prompt, Monday 4th, day and night.)
"Alright Lambs, time to get to work."

Luci's voice echoed in their phone, laughing. Was he doing a peace sign?

"There's only a few but they'll be useful. I want you to find them and see what you can do. Who knows! Maybe you might be better at this than me, although I doubt it heh heh heh…Now remember what I said! You have to get them to fall asleep...but there's no real rules for that!"

For the Awakened, the symbols above the Unawakeneds’ heads will be as clear as day - Luci will even go so far as play little musical tunes when the characters are close by or distract them using electronics. "Come on! Stop wasting time and do something!"

For the Unawakened who have a relative, it will be somewhat easy. It is the others that will be a pain. Maybe that's why Luci asked for help. Or maybe he just wanted to see his 'lambs' struggle. "Get them to bed! It's not that hard! If you have trouble, just show them the program I've put into your phone and toaster! Or knock them with your toaster first if you want, I don't care! Just go in teams when you go after them, got it?"

It's obvious that 'sleeping' as far as Luci is concerned, is when someone is unconscious - he seems to almost want someone to knock an Unawakened out and then drag him into a room and let themselves go to sleep.

Once the task is done, and the place is secure, the characters will have to do the same. While the hypnotic wheel from the program is the easiest way, there's no hard rule about knocking oneself out either.

MINDJACK
Once the characters get inside, they'll be in the person's mind and dreams. Eddan's memories are predominant, and the unawakened will be standing there wandering around. It will be up to the Awakened to peel back the fabric of reality, much like curtains and show them the true memories of their past...

But beware. Shadows lurk here, and transforming will be necessarily. And if a character dies in someone else's dream...they might never wake up. So be careful...

The main mission is to showcase the person a few memories. Give them an idea that something might be amiss...it can be a little or a lot. Just be careful that the more memories, the stronger the shadows become... When both are done and awaken, ten minutes will have passed. Perhaps it will be time for question afterwards.

[OOC:The Unawakened characters need to be isolated for the program to run, and so do the players, so half the 'fun' will be setting up the traps so that the characters will be alone.

Awakened might decide to have someone stand on guard while the others go to sleep with the Unawakened, or just all stupidly go together, or find an area where they won't be disturbed - everything is up to you.

The dreamscape can be anything the Unawakened desires! It could be good memories of their time in Eddan or bad memories, a mixture of both, or just silly dreams. Whatever it is, the Awakened will need to 'peel' those memories away - for example showing them that their mother was someone else in their other life, or even directing the person to a mirror so that they can see their true selves. But for each memory - both good or bad, shadows will start to attack both the Unawakened and Awakened. Be careful and let the mods know if a mission goes REALLY bad.]

Comments

[whitefox]

Kit would never dispute the advantage that acute instincts could provide. Lending a certain unpredictability to a fighter, it was the perfect trump card against anyone who relied as heavily on strategy as himself.

However, that did not mean that he was without his own intuition, and his was as sharp as Vincent's own, forged in the fires of Eddan's seedy underbelly, and sharpened to a lethal edge by adversity.

If there was one thing he had learned how to do, it was endure. Pain was a window, after all. Opened, it allowed a man to assess the state of his being and told him when enough was enough; closed, it afforded him the ability to surpass his limits, including his threshold for pain. Ignoring the body's way of communicating with the brain was of course ill-advised, but as Vincent's arm swung for his gut, Kit was grateful for being able to stall his thoughts and simply react.

There wasn't time to dodge or deflect, he knew that in an instant. But if he curled around the other boy's arm he could trap it...and he did.

Spittle flew from parted lips as air was forced from his lungs, throat clenching as it fought to keep down the contents of his stomach. His body folded neatly around that sacrificed limb, his arms ensnaring it like the jaws of a steel trap, unwilling to relinquish their hold. But he was not on the defensive, his back not yet pressed to the wall. With his opponent's arm captured, he attacked...driving his heel down towards the pressure point atop Vincent's nearest foot.

[whitefox]

She was worried, and unnecessarily so...

Kit supposed there was little he could do or say to assuage that concern, either. The harder he tried to convince her that he would be fine, the harder she would insist on being there to support him. That was the kind of person she was proving to be. It was sweet, and he really was touched...but just the same, he could not forgive himself if he didn't at least try to mitigate her anxiety.

"Have you met anyone before who wanted this?"

Implying, of course, that he did. And he did.

Once all was said and done, all of Kit's loose ends taken care of, he could assume a role that, even only partially glimpsed, felt more real to him than any other experience he'd had in his life.

"It will be alright. I promise you, when the time comes...my heart will not hesitate."

[blacktemper]

"Might as well let it out now."

He could practically hear Kit's muscles convulsing in its struggle to keep from acting on the natural instinct to hurl, a sound which delighted him enough to prompt a remark even in the heat of battle. Shouldn't he be more concerned about the armlock currently being visited upon him? Probably. But he's never been one for typical priorities.

This time he sees his opponent's train of thought early enough to muster up a reaction. His trapped fist digs into Kit's shirt and latches on to the skin underneath it, as if he isn't confident in the other boy's ability to hold him there on his own. The moment that his foot rises to try and smash into his own he acts, using the leftover momentum from his previous charge and the adrenaline pumping through him to ram into him with his entire body.

In the best case scenario, it'll topple them both. At worst, he'll have agitated an already troubled stomach. Either way, he's willing to take the chance that Kit's own attack will connect before he's done with his follow-up. The reward was worth it.

[spoilsfun]

There was something very unsettling at seeing confusion of any kind on that face.

But even in this situation, Shinichi knew better than to trust that she was harmless. He holds his position between Vermouth and Ran.

"That's unlikely. If you know my face, it isn't because of the media."

[failedhandjob]

"This is the first time we've been allowed to talk about what's coming before it happens. But I'm sure someone must have."

It wasn't so far beyond belief. Not everyone would be satisfied with their current life, or have been gifted with a true self that had lived through unsettling experiences. It was a relief to be herself now, after the fact, but surely another must have experienced that same relief simply by learning there was more to their existence than what they currently had.

Reimi had to believe that, just like she had to believe that her companion was telling the truth now. Without it all the hardship they'd endured up until now would have been in vain.

"That's good, though. The stronger your heart is, the easier the transition will be."

She'd hesitated, that first time. Her body had sensed the awful future waiting for her and rebelled, pushing her to ignore that urge until the last possible moment. No one, not even Reimi, could blame Emily for such a reaction. But she didn't want another person to feel what she had that night.

[miseris_socios]

"I... uh. Flowers, mostly." He looks... surprised by the question. "A lot of daises and stuff like that. Things that tried to brighten up the room. It... there were a lot of other kids there, so they wanted to make it look nice."

He just knows that he had to water them and none of the other kids did it properly, and he did it properly but he still didn't care about the stupid plants.

[voodoo_revenge]

Her teeth actually grind and she braces herself as the music continues to push at them like a physical force, or maybe just at her. Her feet settle into something familiar, a fighting stance maybe? It keeps her upright and not moving. And she growls as blond hair shines against the shadows.

"I know him." She repeats it despite his question because she can't quite get the name, it's right there on the tip of her tongue she should know it. And the figure steps into the light, hints of shadow still leaking off of it but for all intents and purposes it looks like a human man, maybe in his late teens early twenties wearing visual kei style clothes but no makeup, just stupidly flashy. "Hello Kyoko." His voice is mellow but filled with malice and not just a hint of mocking. "I think I need more years from you." And then he was walking forward, toward her, absolutely confident despite her body posture that looked... well a little like a rabid dog might look. She looked ready to kill.

"SHOTARO!" When he started forward she did too, not considering anything at all, Natsu's calm calculation flying right out the window in favor of Kyoko's mindless desire for revenge. Time for reflection on why she knows this person calling her Kyoko or why she hates him so much seems to just be swirled into all the red she sees behind her eyes and she has every intention to kick him just to show him how little he can control her.

[sharktrash]

Sugar addicts, more like. If recent research is to be believed, that's actually not far from drug addicts, anyway.

It's truly a miracle, but apparently his Authentic Italian Touch is not easily replaced, or maybe his boss is just a little bit scared of him, like most normal people. Either way, he doesn't even grumble an apology as he wipes off the counter with some paper towels and then a disinfectant, and proceeds to finish up more monstrous mugs. The one he's dropped on the ground is forgotten, however, and the caramelized liquid seeps slowly under the counter. At least that one doesn't seem to send anyone asking for a manager, as the man does only have one hand and all.

He shoots Natsu a glare when she makes the sound, as if asking what the fuck does she want. The next customer in line actually orders an espresso, nervously, and Cesare looks like he's about to kiss them for a moment before brewing up the order and slapping a 'festival' discount on it to go with.

[sharktrash]

He should definitely mention he's also called Mukuro and see what happens.

"I don't care about stupid money," he states proudly, folding his arms. Wow he must have really forgotten he's a barista and not rich as fuck in this world. "All that Starbucks-y shit is sacrilege on real coffee."

[sharktrash]

Ooooh, good point. Cesare considers it for a moment.

"Just 'cause I can make it taste decent doesn't mean it's good," he retorts haughtily and turns to prepare the strongest, blackest, deadliest Italian espresso that this city has ever seen. It probably packs more punch than a mule with ten pounds of TNT on its back. Will it be enough to spark some life into Chikusa for a moment? Who knows. The kid's that far gone.

He proudly presents it and announces however much it costs. Probably less than the apple monstrosity but still enough to hold up the coffee shops' reputation of ripping off.

[whitefox]

He wouldn't. He absolutely wouldn't give Vincent the pleasure of seeing him in such an undignified state, just as he refused to acknowledge the other boy's taunt with anything but an unwavering stare.

The pinching of his opponent's nails through the front of his shirt stung like a handful of angry wasps, but Kit did not falter. He could feel blood rising already to the surface of those gouges, but they wouldn't be the first wounds his body had received, nor the last. The important part, even as Vincent threw all of his weight into him, was that he still had the other boy's arm trapped.

It was a familiar sensation, reeling backwards together in midair for what felt like an eternity, but the ground rushed up more quickly to meet them here than it had in the stairwell, and this time Kit was prepared for it. Once his shoulders met the grass, Kit finally relinquished his hold on Vincent's arm in favor of seizing him by the shirt instead. A knee drove up between his opponent's legs and, using that leverage, he forced his opponent's weight over his head and rolled with him until he had reversed their positions.

He was smiling as he gazed down at Vincent, tugging him up by the grip he had on his shirt. And that smile remained even as he slammed the other boy back down, visiting upon him the same pain he'd endured the last time they had come to blows.

[blacktemper]

Loathe though he was to admit it at any time, especially in a moment like this, Vincent's size was a distinct disadvantage to him. Resist as he might, there was simply no way for him to prevent being upended - although his wild struggles do leave the sound of tearing fabric all throughout his descent.

The growl that escapes him now is significantly less amused, eyes burning fire as he glares up at his newfound captor. Now more than ever he wanted to rip his intestines straight from the other boy's stomach, a sentiment that is almost impossible to miss. So much for dampening his fighting spirit.

His body screams in pain as Kit smashes him into the ground, but somehow it only grants his mind the ability to think more clearly. Perhaps it's the anger. He wraps his hands around those of his opponents, seemingly attempting to grapple with them and force him into releasing his grip; the truth of the matter, however, is a bit sneakier than that.

When Kit pulls his hands up a second time, he'll find that the only thing rising with them is the segment of shirt that he's ripped off. By the time he processes that he'll have an even bigger problem to deal with - Vincent rushing up of his own accord with a vicious headbutt.

[whitefox]

This close, Kit only had the upper hand so long as he could keep the other boy from countering any of his attacks. Vincent might have been small, but his strength was great, and the moment Kit felt that strip of fabric tear free he knew he'd made a mistake.

But there wasn't any time to correct it, not as his momentum had carried him back and Vincent shot upwards, forehead driving into his own with enough force he thought for sure he'd lost feeling in his arms. He saw double, triple even, in between the waves of black that clouded his vision, but instinct guided him through the dancing phantoms before his eyes and allowed him to fight the hold on his wrists. Allowed him to tighten his hands around Vincent's neck.

He could feel that if nothing else, the wild pulse drumming against his fingers like a siren in the dark, beating harder as he squeezed...or was it his own pulse he felt, racing inside his chest and pounding behind the walls of his skull...?

[whitefox]

Kit wasn't certain his heart was strong, but what it lacked in fortitude his will more than made up for. He could do what was necessary. He would do what was necessary.

If he had to shut down his heart or rip it out to accomplish that...so be it.

He couldn't allow himself to think too deeply about what he would be giving up, in that case. Thoughts of family and friends and what remained in this life that he cared even a fraction for needed to begin and end with preparations for saying goodbye and, in some instances, even cutting certain ties. He couldn't let himself think about how sad it was. For him, it wasn't sad at all, it was simply something that needed to be done. Compartmentalizing that way permitted him to focus on what was most important and shut out all the rest.

It would allow him to keep his promise. When he was finally ready to fully Awaken, however difficult the transition, he would not allow his to be a burden to anyone else.

"I owe you my thanks," Kit said. "You've been of great help to me so far. I only hope I can return the favor some day."

[singlefaith]

Focus. She has to focus. Ran's eyes flick between Shinichi and Christina, frowning slightly at the words. There's an implied connection here -- but how could Shinichi know her?

Unless . . .

Maybe that case that he refers to, the one that keeps him away. Could that possibly . . . ?

Again, maybe. Certainly he's been to a number of cases, some that she's never been to. She can't jump to that conclusion.

But still. It seems plausible.

Though quiet, she remains intent on the answer. For the moment, everything else can wait.

[blacktemper]

Their skulls collide so forcefully that Vincent can feel his teeth chattering, jaw attempting to physically relocate itself from the scene of such violence. He can't see a goddamn thing, but he certainly feels when his opponent fights past his spirited resistance and begins strangling him.

A choked gasp escapes him, forced out along with the rest of the air in his throat. He retaliates immediately, pushing past his throbbing head and blinded vision with the sort of power that only adrenaline can provide. He'd been unable to prevent this from happening, but his hands were still clutching onto Kit's; they turn from a vice to claws, ripping and tearing deep into every inch of his wrists and hands he can reach. If he hits anything sensitive then his foe will bleed out long before he loses consciousness.

His legs move as well, fighting underneath Kit's bulk to slam into him repeatedly with as much force as he can possibly muster given the current circumstances. It would be far wiser to simply admit defeat after being backed into such a corner, but the thought never crosses his mind. He refused to go down until the other boy had expended every last ounce of energy on him.

[failedhandjob]

Reimi simply laughs at that, the sound clear and bright in the darkness of the dream world. Her head shakes slightly when she responds, a clear dismissal of her companion's assessment of the situation. "You don't owe me anything."

This was what people did when they cared for one another - they gave themselves freely, without thought or expectation of a return gesture. She was happy to be able to do it, locked away so long from anything resembling the power to act of her own accord. If anything, she'd like to thank Kit himself for trusting her to live up to the promises she'd made. It was a great risk to take with someone he barely knew.

Her gaze shifts away from his slightly, drifting to look out at the expansive nothing around them. When she turns back, her expression is mildly quizzical. "Do you want to see any more? We can keep going, if you need to."

[whitefox]

There was a surprising amount of strength in Kit's grip, even as Vincent's sharp nails raked across their surface, scraping and clawing in attempt to free his throat. But the trouble with tearing at his flesh was that, after so long, he failed to feel any pain. One sensation bled into the next, the burning so intense it faded altogether from his awareness, and as a result his hold only tightened...

...at least until he simply couldn't hold on any longer, his fingers giving an involuntary spasm before letting go.

Though whether that was due to the amount of blood he'd lost through them or the way Vincent's knees hammered up from below, it was difficult to say.

He curled as his body slumped towards the other boy, a low hiss of breath leaving him from in between clenched teeth. There was so much red mingled with the black spots in his vision. Was it over? Was this all the fight that he had left?

No. He hadn't yet said the words, still had his consciousness, and with it the determination to fight back whatever the odds. But first he needed to get away.

It was risky, but with his hands relinquishing that throat and the other boy no doubt greedily sucking in much needed oxygen, he might get away with it. Smearing his blood across Vincent's field of vision and, if he was lucky enough not to miss, striking him with his elbow before rolling off and to the side. It would be at least a minute before he could get to his feet again, his knees shaking as bad as they were, but if that act of desperation could buy him enough time perhaps he'd be okay...

[blacktemper]

It's with unmitigated gratitude that Vincent allows air to rush back into his lungs, completely heedless of the ugly noises he makes as he does so. He has only the vaguest sense of where anything is currently, the darkness of intense strangulation mingling with his already damaged vision to leave nothing but faint shapes and flickers.

Even this is robbed from him when Kit thrusts an ungodly amount of his own blood right into his eyes, drawing a labored hiss of pain from him as they begin to burn anew. He couldn't have stopped him even if he'd seen the attack coming, not in this weakened state. As he coughs from the additional blow visited upon him before his opponent makes his escape, he hears his own voice echo through his mind with unfamiliar words.

Kurama, have you lost your mind!?

Now was not the time for this. His addled brain pushes the recollection of more blood, more pain to the side in favor of focusing on the here and now. It would be wise for him to take some time to recover - at least wipe the blood out of his eyes - but Vincent never even considers it. Instead he rolls over with a grunt, forsaking even delivering more oxygen to his body in favor of continuing the chase.

He can't see, and he can't use his legs to any useful degree, but he can still hear and crawl. With Kit as battered as he was he didn't have the wherewithal to mask his retreat; all he had to do was follow the sounds and hold it together until he could at least grasp onto a foot...

[whitefox]

Unaware of the memory his actions had triggered, Kit continued to crawl away and put distance between his adversary and him, but Vincent's recovery came much more quickly than he ever could have imagined. Indeed, it was as though the other boy had abandoned all sense the same as Kit had when his hands had been around his throat. Nothing was stopping Vincent now, not blindness and not pain, not even the inability to properly draw a solid breath of air through his damaged trachea. He was unrelenting and...

...frankly, it was as impressive as it was unbelievable.

Newfound respect or no, however, when Kit felt his foot seized he emitted a startled noise and kicked with the other. He struck out at Vincent's shoulder and head, not once, but several times, each blow intended to stall him in his advance or, better yet, knock him out cold and end this.

[mirrors_wish]

"True."

She picks her second blue apple, before returning to the normal ones.

"It's strange, though. This isn't the only person who seems to like apples."

She means Luci, of course, but even with them keeping their voices down, she feels really hesistant to mention him outright, out loud.

[blacktemper]

To Vincent's credit, not he doesn't let something as trivial as more trauma to his head stop him on his quest. He's detached so thoroughly from reality that he doesn't even feel the blows enough to groan in pain, moving almost robotically as he continues to attempt to fulfill the one goal remaining in his mind. All he had to do was get the other boy to forfeit, after all.

His grip remains tight around Kit's foot, using the other as a pulley to drag himself through the barrage of blows and slowly up his leg. To say his gaze was unfocused would be a kind understatement - it's highly unlikely that he even has enough awareness to be thinking at all, let alone strategizing. It's quite the terrifying sight, especially when one finds themselves the direct victim of it.

Unfortunately for him, even an iron will can't completely win out over biology. Between the devastating kicks and his own lack of sufficient oxygen, Vincent's mechanical ascent begins to slow even further until it comes to a complete standstill. He shifts several times in one last desperate attempt to muster up some hitherto untapped reserve of energy, but fails to locate any. With a strangled breath, his head finally drops down as unconsciousness claims him.

Even so, Kit's hardship hasn't quite ended. His grasp on the other boy's leg remains vicelike, even with his senses gone.

[mirrors_wish]

That was an Unawakened student, one with a nice arrow above her head. "Mira" knew very well that she wasn't going to be able to try and make her fall asleep right here, in front of everyone, but maybe she could at least get some important information.

"Mira Glazier, school paper," she introduced herself politely. "How are you looking forward to the new schoolyear?"

[whitefox]

[Several minutes had passed before Kit allowed his back to hit the grass and his lungs to fill and empty again with a deep sigh of relief. It was longer still until he found the strength to move, his victory over such possessed determination almost too unreal to wrap his mind around, but not nearly as unreal as his opponent's unrelenting grip on his leg. It took some effort on his part, the mangled condition his hands were in limiting their reliability, but eventually Kit worked each finger loose with only minimal scratches to the skin beneath.

He was tempted briefly to leave the other boy lying there, but their fight had been one he'd not only consented to, but promised. More importantly, there was no telling what might happen to Vincent if he was left stranded in a place like Hagu, and beyond a shadow of a doubt all his belongings would be stolen away. Whatever had transpired between them, he didn't deserve that. Especially not after they had worked together to escape Kit's pursuers...

It was decided, then.

Leaving the other boy to lie face down in the grass for the time being, Kit got unsteadily back to his feet and collected their belongings from over by the tree. A favor from an old acquaintance was called in and, in a matter of minutes Vincent and he were picked up from the park and escorted from Hagu back to the school in Green Valley.

In his state, the most difficult part for Kit was carrying Vincent, his guitar, and his own personal effects to the dorms from the street. His legs screamed silently in protest every step of the way, not unlike the stares he'd gotten from onlookers until, at last, he'd shut them both away behind the security and privacy of his dorm room door.

The couch was bypassed in favor of Kit's own room. Even in his exhausted and weakened state, he knew better than to dump someone as injured and covered in blood as the other boy onto a surface that would stain so easily and be difficult to clean. His bedding, however, could be laundered later or simply disposed of. And so it was there, atop a plush dark grey comforter, that Vincent would eventually awaken. He would find his guitar leaning neatly next to the side of the bed nearest the pillows, but no Kit in sight.

Of course, the sound of running water from the bathroom was the perfect indication of where he'd disappeared to...]

i see you

[blacktemper]

[it's a small comfort to know that had Vincent been aware of the events transpiring, he'd have been thoroughly pleased at the inconvenience his limp body was causing.

unfortunately for his sense of bratty contentment, he doesn't return to the waking world until long after his journey has ended. the last memories have his instincts screaming at him to bolt upright immediately, but his battered body simply refuses to comply. the most he can do is attempt to beat back the godawful headache boring through his skull and roll over onto his side with a muffled groan in order to better inspect his current environment.

the room was wholly unfamiliar to him, but the sight of his guitar propped up against the bed told him everything he needed to know: he'd lost. the thought vexes him a bit, but after such a powerful struggle Vincent can't find it within him to be sour. it had been...a completely satisfying experience, much to his surprise.

but that didn't mean he was even remotely inclined to hang around and make small talk with the victor. the sounds of activity from the bathroom informs him that there's still a little time to slink away, if his agonized muscles will allow him. as soon as he's given himself a few moments to simply lay and breathe out of courtesy Vincent is dedicating himself to the attempt, starting first with sliding out of the bed slowly.

this was going to have to be done in shifts, but there was really no way to get around that with his body in the condition it was. so long as he made sure to pause between actions it should still be manageable, albeit unpleasant.]