amaranthh (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greenling) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2014-05-04 04:02 pm
greenling) wrote in rainbowfic2014-05-04 04:02 pm
Canary Yellow #5
Name: Greenling
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Canary Yellow #5 (The man who says his evening prayer is a captain posting his sentinels. He can sleep.)
Supplies and Styles: Sculpture from Lemonade/Retreat
Word Count: 2,710
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nothing specific.
Summary: Dmitry and Diana face off, Lance is introduced somewhat more properly, and Kevin and Peace finally get around to the start of The Werewolf Talk.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Dmitry ran the palm of his hand over the edge of the blade, gingerly at first; when it failed to cut him, he gripped it and picked it up a few inches from the floor. It didn't so much as make a mark. He sat it back down, where it made a soft tik as it hit the smooth stone floor.
The room he was in looked kind of like a break room, given the small counter, sink, and fridge- okay, a lot like it had been a break room prior to this- but it had largely been emptied of what had been inside it. Outside of what was bolted down, there were just two long tables shoved together in the middle and surrounded by chairs, a couple of dry-erase flipboards, boxes of crap, and something like half a dozen laptops. He had expected a room full of people, plans, maybe something military, especially since they'd taken over a police station (he wasn't going to let that go), but outside of himself, Peace, the woman with the eyepatch, and the little black guy in muddy hiking boots that had driven them here, there were just the two other people. Neither of them had uniforms or anything. At least he was sitting under the AC vent.
He was lost in thought for a moment, then dragged the blade an inch or so; it didn't take immediately, but it did make a mark.
"What are you doing?"
The sudden attention startled him; he looked up at the eyepatch woman, who was now hovering over him. She'd been talking, probably even about things he wanted to hear, but he didn't understand half of it and had largely tuned her out, unable to put much effort into comprehension. His head was still swimming from post-adrenaline crash, and he didn't remember everything that happened after he'd gotten in the car- but it wasn't a blank hole, at least, like the sword, just exhaustion. The woman reminded him of his mother with the way she towered over him, arms crossed, despite being a foot or so shorter than him. She wasn't his mother, though.
"Nothing," he said with a low growl. "I'm dead exhausted. Do I have to be here?"
"And where would you rather be right now? Home?" Her eyes were... not cold. Pained? Something complicated.
"Take your condescension and shove it sideways up your ass," Dmitry replied in a monotone. She quirked an eyebrow. "I feel like I've been run over by a semi, so unless the fucking world is going to end before I can take a fucking nap- and the seeming possibility of that is the only reason I'm still in this goddamn room- I need to..." His thoughts ran out of his head, noticing the clock behind her. "How the fuck is it nearly four? I left the house at nine thirty."
She still barely budged. "What's wrong with you?"
How many hours did I lose? "I told you, I keep having blackouts and now I have a magic sword." Dmitry stood up, leaning a bit of his weight on the sword as he did. "Other than that, I have no fucking clue."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "If you want to know what's going on, sit the fuck down. If not, we don't have the manpower to let you run around. Don't leave the building."
"And why the fuck should I listen to you?" Behind her, someone else stood up, a tall, skinny bald guy. The rest of the room seemed reluctant to step in.
"Hey, I get we're all tense right now," said the bald guy, "but this isn't necessary. Let's just let this go and deal with it later, all right?"
"Like I said, just as long as he doesn't leave."
"I didn't want to leave," Dmitry snarled, taking another step towards the door, "until you made it sound like I'm a prisoner."
"You're not, okay?" said the bald guy, palms out. "It's just that sword we're worried about. It could be nothing, but it sounds like it might be hurting you. Like it might be dangerous." He took a few steps forward. "I'm sorry about all this. Would you mind leaving the sword here so when can look at it? We'll give it back if there's nothing wrong, and it's not like you can sleep next to it."
Part of Dmitry's mind twitched, but the logic was sound. He stopped leaning on the sword and began to hand it to the guy.
*
Dmitry lay on an ugly green plastic couch in a dark room, waiting for his head to stop swimming. Every so often, he would begin to drop off to sleep, and a pulse of feeling would echo through his head and right arm simultaneously and shock him back to consciousness. It felt insistent, like a little creature pulling on his sleeve- he couldn't manage to characterize it as an animal, or anything less than alien, despite the temptation to anthropomorphize the damned thing. He should've been frightened, but he was too tired. Maybe that was its intention. He swore incoherently at it in a strained whisper.
He was stuck in a police station, controlled by a bunch of random-seeming, heavily-armed creeps, who he couldn't even hate since they'd let him sleep. Try to sleep. And because, now that he thought about it, they'd kind of rescued him and the beautiful man-meat he'd let stay over. They'd been dragged into some kind of meeting, he'd started babbling, someone tried to take the sword, and he'd decked them before someone had let him go lay down. At least, that was more or less what he remembered. He remembered a lot of things in the past twelve hours that he wasn't sure were real, and didn't remember significant patches of time that had definitely passed. Like everything that had happened after he'd touched the sword. Anyway, he didn't want to go to their stupid apocalypse meeting.
A knocking sound came from behind him; it took a second for him to connect the dots that knocking meant "person" and "requesting attention". He rolled over to look.
"Uhm, hope I didn't wake you up." The ma- Peace quirked one corner of his mouth into a sympathetic smile. "Just wanted to check on you. The briefing or whatever is over, and I brought you a lemonade?"
"Lemonade?" Dmitry mumbled. Sleep was clearly beyond him, so he slid up into a sitting position.
Peace nodded and stepped into the room. "Canned lemonade, so, kind of. There's also bottled water, but the soda is gone..." He glanced behind him, looking awkward, and shrugged. "But it's free, right?"
"Give." Dmitry stretched his hand out. Actually, a cold drink sounded great right about now. "Not so far out of school that I can't appreciate that."
As Peace handed it over, Dmitry realized the other man's eyes were on the sword. Come to think of it, the sword seemed to be letting off a soft light. He turned so that his feet were off the couch and sat it leaning against one leg, gesturing for Peace to sit down.
"So who was that guy driving the van?"
"Uh... another werewolf." He thought Peace looked a little embarrassed at that, though he didn't get why. Peace sat down on the couch beside Dmitry, slumping down a little and nearly sliding on the plastic. Clearly, they were both a little tired. "He found me somehow, and then I found you."
"Cool." Dmitry popped the can open. "Maybe he can tell you more about how this works?"
Peace nodded. "I hope so. He said he'd teach me how to do... bigger things." Whatever that meant. He trusted he'd understand it when it happened. "But really, how are you?"
"Mmh. Alive?" He smirked, eyes closed. "Fuzzy. I'm not sure."
Peace nodded, looking hesitant. "You, uhm... you said you don't remember what happened after you left your apartment this morning?"
"After picking up the sword. I remember leaving-" Dmitry's sentence was cut off by a loud yawn. He shrugged, deciding to leave the rest implied. "Mmh."
"Okay," Peace continued. "Everyone's just kinda concerned about you. You were glowing, you've been sick, and you won't let go of that thing..."
Dmitry was silent for a moment. There was a dim awareness in the back of his mind that he'd been an asshole, probably. Social situations like that weren't really his forte, but he didn't want to be an asshole to Peace specifically, so being careful was warranted. "I don't know what's going on." He opened his eyes again and met Peace's. "Maybe you should be concerned. Maybe I'm King Arthur. Who the fuck knows? You notice this thing won't cut anything if I don't ask it to?"
Soft voices passed by down the hall outside, too faint to make out. Peace's voice got lower and quieter. "No?"
Dmitry picked up the sword and leaned forward, sliding the point around on the floor as he had in the break room, then his hand down the blade. Peace frowned. Then he did it again, intending to cut, and it slid cleanly through about a quarter inch of carpet and flooring with a soft tearing sound.
"I'm waiting to hear that I gave myself brain damage just before school ended and this is all a hallucination or something," Dmitry said with resignation.
"Yeah." Peace gave him a smile that left little dimples in his left cheek. "I don't know what I'm doing either."
"Was it this bad for you? Like..." Dmitry didn't quite smile back between yawns. "Confusion, pain..."
"Uhm. I'll tell you sometime, maybe." Was that a dodge? "But you should get some more sleep, they don't need us 'til sunset."
"Sunset exactly, huh?" His eyes narrowed, not quite willing to let the conversation end. Dmitry didn't feel entirely safe. "What are they going to use "us" for, anyway? Hell... who are they?"
Peace shrugged. "They said it gets worse at night, and we need to find out why, and some other stuff. I'm not sure who they are. They might just all know Diana. She seems to be in charge."
"The angry one? Great. Tell me if you find out anything useful, please?"
He frowned. "I will. I'm doing the best I can."
"Tch... Sorry, not mad at you." Dmitry frowned back, feeling awkward. That had been a nice moment he screwed up. "You're right, I should sleep."
"It's okay. I'll leave you to it." Peace reached over and squeezed Dmitry's shoulder, which made Dmitry feel a little better. "Want me to close the door?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
*
Peace stood up and headed out into the hall, his worries slightly soothed. He had only absorbed about half of the meeting himself; it was clear the two of them had been an afterthought. The circumstances of their sudden recruitment were another thing he had planned to talk to the other guy about.
Speaking of the other guy, he and two of the others were hanging out outside the break room, talking. He could hear them pretty clearly from a ways off, though they were clearly trying to be quiet. Peace felt awkward, especially when Kevin saw him and did a kind of slight sideways nod the others didn't seem to notice; he kept walking, but much more slowly.
"I'm not saying that..." The voice of the guy Dmitry had punched trailed off, a broad-shouldered and baby-faced fellow who had been introduced as Lance. "I'm not saying that I don't trust you or that I won't do what you ask me to do. You know things are-" he shrugged his shoulders, tired- "the trust part's the important part."
Diana was leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed, looking relaxed but sour (Peace wasn't sure she had other expressions). "Just don't make this any more complicated than it already is. I have people to talk to." She stopped leaning and brushed past Kevin, noticing Peace herself as she did so.
"Hey gorgeous." She tugged the lapel of his jacket as she passed him, her voice losing its hard edge, though not the obvious exhaustion. "You need anything, anything at all- ask someone else. All right?"
"Uh, yeah... okay."
"Hey," Kevin said finally. "How are you holding up?" Lance had turned around, and from the looks on their faces, Peace figured he looked as silly as he felt.
"Holding up?" Peace echoed, before realizing what Kevin meant. "Oh. I'm fine. Just worried about-" he couldn't resist looking back- "uhm, everyone else."
"Take care of yourself and everyone else can hold up their end." Kevin nodded again. Peace was beginning to think it wasn't to him. "I'm sure your friend will be fine, too. He's doing really well for someone who just got reality yanked out from under him."
"Speaking of him, I think I'm going to take a rest. Get some solid food. That sort of thing." Lance stepped away.
"I don't mind if you do what you were talking about," Kevin said without looking at him. "I'm just not interested."
"Ah... all right." Lance frowned and walked off in the other direction.
Peace stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to remember where they'd left off after that strangeness. "Dmitry? Yeah, I guess." Peace thought back to the conversation they'd had over dinner the night before. Dmitry seemed like a fairly normal guy. "Is this a good time for us to talk about, uhm, werewolves?"
Kevin nodded. "Sure. Let's go outside. Sun's still nice where the shatter hasn't grown."
"The shatter is the thing the monsters came out of, right?"
"Yeah. Iridescent shattered glass shape. You'll see it." Kevin smiled and started walking in the direction Lance had gone; Peace followed. "How long have you been what you are?"
"Uh, maybe six months? Or that's how long since I realized I could do things." Peace took off his jacket and held it under one arm, fluffing his hair a little and letting the air conditioning flow through to his neck before they went back outside. Last time he'd gone outside, it was about 90 degrees and humid. He wasn't Southern enough to count that as "the sun is nice", but he didn't want to complain, either.
"Okay. Have you met anyone else like us?"
"No."
Kevin nodded again. "Then I guess we'll start with whatever you want to know."
Peace paused a moment, his mind reeling at the possibilities. "Uh..." He stopped walking to stare into space. Kevin stopped as well and turned to look at him. "Uh, God, everything? I mean, where has all this stuff been all my life? Why is everything trying to kill me? Why did I start having dreams about- I don't even know how much was literal or- goddesses and, deep, personal, terrifying..." He paused again, his brow deeply furrowed, searching for words. "I don't even know how much of this another person could relate to."
Kevin's expression didn't change. Really, he didn't even blink. It was a little creepy. "I can relate to not knowing what the hell is going on. This isn't something that usually comes with an instruction manual. Unless you're Diana."
"Is she a werewolf?"
"Nah, she's something else." They turned down a corridor to a metal door that obviously led outside. "If it's easier, we can start with the practical and then see if we work around to the more esoteric stuff. If you've survived six months on your own, you can probably teach me something yourself."
"Cool. Ah..." Peace hesitated as Kevin opened the door. The heat started radiating through immediately, cutting the air conditioning like a pair of solid walls rubbing up against each other. "I don't know if this is something I shouldn't ask, but just to have one less question... what was that thing about?"
"Which one?"
"The thing the other guy is doing." Peace frowned. "Is it about the creatures?"
Kevin chuckled. "Nah. We had a talk, I gave him the impression I was religious. He's going to go talk to his God."
"Oh."
Peace followed Kevin outside, resigning himself to feeling awkward until he got to the part where he had to punch things.
Still need color tags to exist for Canary Yellow and Famous, btw. If they exist I can't seem to add them.
Story: All Great Things
Colors: Canary Yellow #5 (The man who says his evening prayer is a captain posting his sentinels. He can sleep.)
Supplies and Styles: Sculpture from Lemonade/Retreat
Word Count: 2,710
Rating: PG
Warnings: Nothing specific.
Summary: Dmitry and Diana face off, Lance is introduced somewhat more properly, and Kevin and Peace finally get around to the start of The Werewolf Talk.
Comments, criticism, and questions are all appreciated.
Dmitry ran the palm of his hand over the edge of the blade, gingerly at first; when it failed to cut him, he gripped it and picked it up a few inches from the floor. It didn't so much as make a mark. He sat it back down, where it made a soft tik as it hit the smooth stone floor.
The room he was in looked kind of like a break room, given the small counter, sink, and fridge- okay, a lot like it had been a break room prior to this- but it had largely been emptied of what had been inside it. Outside of what was bolted down, there were just two long tables shoved together in the middle and surrounded by chairs, a couple of dry-erase flipboards, boxes of crap, and something like half a dozen laptops. He had expected a room full of people, plans, maybe something military, especially since they'd taken over a police station (he wasn't going to let that go), but outside of himself, Peace, the woman with the eyepatch, and the little black guy in muddy hiking boots that had driven them here, there were just the two other people. Neither of them had uniforms or anything. At least he was sitting under the AC vent.
He was lost in thought for a moment, then dragged the blade an inch or so; it didn't take immediately, but it did make a mark.
"What are you doing?"
The sudden attention startled him; he looked up at the eyepatch woman, who was now hovering over him. She'd been talking, probably even about things he wanted to hear, but he didn't understand half of it and had largely tuned her out, unable to put much effort into comprehension. His head was still swimming from post-adrenaline crash, and he didn't remember everything that happened after he'd gotten in the car- but it wasn't a blank hole, at least, like the sword, just exhaustion. The woman reminded him of his mother with the way she towered over him, arms crossed, despite being a foot or so shorter than him. She wasn't his mother, though.
"Nothing," he said with a low growl. "I'm dead exhausted. Do I have to be here?"
"And where would you rather be right now? Home?" Her eyes were... not cold. Pained? Something complicated.
"Take your condescension and shove it sideways up your ass," Dmitry replied in a monotone. She quirked an eyebrow. "I feel like I've been run over by a semi, so unless the fucking world is going to end before I can take a fucking nap- and the seeming possibility of that is the only reason I'm still in this goddamn room- I need to..." His thoughts ran out of his head, noticing the clock behind her. "How the fuck is it nearly four? I left the house at nine thirty."
She still barely budged. "What's wrong with you?"
How many hours did I lose? "I told you, I keep having blackouts and now I have a magic sword." Dmitry stood up, leaning a bit of his weight on the sword as he did. "Other than that, I have no fucking clue."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "If you want to know what's going on, sit the fuck down. If not, we don't have the manpower to let you run around. Don't leave the building."
"And why the fuck should I listen to you?" Behind her, someone else stood up, a tall, skinny bald guy. The rest of the room seemed reluctant to step in.
"Hey, I get we're all tense right now," said the bald guy, "but this isn't necessary. Let's just let this go and deal with it later, all right?"
"Like I said, just as long as he doesn't leave."
"I didn't want to leave," Dmitry snarled, taking another step towards the door, "until you made it sound like I'm a prisoner."
"You're not, okay?" said the bald guy, palms out. "It's just that sword we're worried about. It could be nothing, but it sounds like it might be hurting you. Like it might be dangerous." He took a few steps forward. "I'm sorry about all this. Would you mind leaving the sword here so when can look at it? We'll give it back if there's nothing wrong, and it's not like you can sleep next to it."
Part of Dmitry's mind twitched, but the logic was sound. He stopped leaning on the sword and began to hand it to the guy.
*
Dmitry lay on an ugly green plastic couch in a dark room, waiting for his head to stop swimming. Every so often, he would begin to drop off to sleep, and a pulse of feeling would echo through his head and right arm simultaneously and shock him back to consciousness. It felt insistent, like a little creature pulling on his sleeve- he couldn't manage to characterize it as an animal, or anything less than alien, despite the temptation to anthropomorphize the damned thing. He should've been frightened, but he was too tired. Maybe that was its intention. He swore incoherently at it in a strained whisper.
He was stuck in a police station, controlled by a bunch of random-seeming, heavily-armed creeps, who he couldn't even hate since they'd let him sleep. Try to sleep. And because, now that he thought about it, they'd kind of rescued him and the beautiful man-meat he'd let stay over. They'd been dragged into some kind of meeting, he'd started babbling, someone tried to take the sword, and he'd decked them before someone had let him go lay down. At least, that was more or less what he remembered. He remembered a lot of things in the past twelve hours that he wasn't sure were real, and didn't remember significant patches of time that had definitely passed. Like everything that had happened after he'd touched the sword. Anyway, he didn't want to go to their stupid apocalypse meeting.
A knocking sound came from behind him; it took a second for him to connect the dots that knocking meant "person" and "requesting attention". He rolled over to look.
"Uhm, hope I didn't wake you up." The ma- Peace quirked one corner of his mouth into a sympathetic smile. "Just wanted to check on you. The briefing or whatever is over, and I brought you a lemonade?"
"Lemonade?" Dmitry mumbled. Sleep was clearly beyond him, so he slid up into a sitting position.
Peace nodded and stepped into the room. "Canned lemonade, so, kind of. There's also bottled water, but the soda is gone..." He glanced behind him, looking awkward, and shrugged. "But it's free, right?"
"Give." Dmitry stretched his hand out. Actually, a cold drink sounded great right about now. "Not so far out of school that I can't appreciate that."
As Peace handed it over, Dmitry realized the other man's eyes were on the sword. Come to think of it, the sword seemed to be letting off a soft light. He turned so that his feet were off the couch and sat it leaning against one leg, gesturing for Peace to sit down.
"So who was that guy driving the van?"
"Uh... another werewolf." He thought Peace looked a little embarrassed at that, though he didn't get why. Peace sat down on the couch beside Dmitry, slumping down a little and nearly sliding on the plastic. Clearly, they were both a little tired. "He found me somehow, and then I found you."
"Cool." Dmitry popped the can open. "Maybe he can tell you more about how this works?"
Peace nodded. "I hope so. He said he'd teach me how to do... bigger things." Whatever that meant. He trusted he'd understand it when it happened. "But really, how are you?"
"Mmh. Alive?" He smirked, eyes closed. "Fuzzy. I'm not sure."
Peace nodded, looking hesitant. "You, uhm... you said you don't remember what happened after you left your apartment this morning?"
"After picking up the sword. I remember leaving-" Dmitry's sentence was cut off by a loud yawn. He shrugged, deciding to leave the rest implied. "Mmh."
"Okay," Peace continued. "Everyone's just kinda concerned about you. You were glowing, you've been sick, and you won't let go of that thing..."
Dmitry was silent for a moment. There was a dim awareness in the back of his mind that he'd been an asshole, probably. Social situations like that weren't really his forte, but he didn't want to be an asshole to Peace specifically, so being careful was warranted. "I don't know what's going on." He opened his eyes again and met Peace's. "Maybe you should be concerned. Maybe I'm King Arthur. Who the fuck knows? You notice this thing won't cut anything if I don't ask it to?"
Soft voices passed by down the hall outside, too faint to make out. Peace's voice got lower and quieter. "No?"
Dmitry picked up the sword and leaned forward, sliding the point around on the floor as he had in the break room, then his hand down the blade. Peace frowned. Then he did it again, intending to cut, and it slid cleanly through about a quarter inch of carpet and flooring with a soft tearing sound.
"I'm waiting to hear that I gave myself brain damage just before school ended and this is all a hallucination or something," Dmitry said with resignation.
"Yeah." Peace gave him a smile that left little dimples in his left cheek. "I don't know what I'm doing either."
"Was it this bad for you? Like..." Dmitry didn't quite smile back between yawns. "Confusion, pain..."
"Uhm. I'll tell you sometime, maybe." Was that a dodge? "But you should get some more sleep, they don't need us 'til sunset."
"Sunset exactly, huh?" His eyes narrowed, not quite willing to let the conversation end. Dmitry didn't feel entirely safe. "What are they going to use "us" for, anyway? Hell... who are they?"
Peace shrugged. "They said it gets worse at night, and we need to find out why, and some other stuff. I'm not sure who they are. They might just all know Diana. She seems to be in charge."
"The angry one? Great. Tell me if you find out anything useful, please?"
He frowned. "I will. I'm doing the best I can."
"Tch... Sorry, not mad at you." Dmitry frowned back, feeling awkward. That had been a nice moment he screwed up. "You're right, I should sleep."
"It's okay. I'll leave you to it." Peace reached over and squeezed Dmitry's shoulder, which made Dmitry feel a little better. "Want me to close the door?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
*
Peace stood up and headed out into the hall, his worries slightly soothed. He had only absorbed about half of the meeting himself; it was clear the two of them had been an afterthought. The circumstances of their sudden recruitment were another thing he had planned to talk to the other guy about.
Speaking of the other guy, he and two of the others were hanging out outside the break room, talking. He could hear them pretty clearly from a ways off, though they were clearly trying to be quiet. Peace felt awkward, especially when Kevin saw him and did a kind of slight sideways nod the others didn't seem to notice; he kept walking, but much more slowly.
"I'm not saying that..." The voice of the guy Dmitry had punched trailed off, a broad-shouldered and baby-faced fellow who had been introduced as Lance. "I'm not saying that I don't trust you or that I won't do what you ask me to do. You know things are-" he shrugged his shoulders, tired- "the trust part's the important part."
Diana was leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed, looking relaxed but sour (Peace wasn't sure she had other expressions). "Just don't make this any more complicated than it already is. I have people to talk to." She stopped leaning and brushed past Kevin, noticing Peace herself as she did so.
"Hey gorgeous." She tugged the lapel of his jacket as she passed him, her voice losing its hard edge, though not the obvious exhaustion. "You need anything, anything at all- ask someone else. All right?"
"Uh, yeah... okay."
"Hey," Kevin said finally. "How are you holding up?" Lance had turned around, and from the looks on their faces, Peace figured he looked as silly as he felt.
"Holding up?" Peace echoed, before realizing what Kevin meant. "Oh. I'm fine. Just worried about-" he couldn't resist looking back- "uhm, everyone else."
"Take care of yourself and everyone else can hold up their end." Kevin nodded again. Peace was beginning to think it wasn't to him. "I'm sure your friend will be fine, too. He's doing really well for someone who just got reality yanked out from under him."
"Speaking of him, I think I'm going to take a rest. Get some solid food. That sort of thing." Lance stepped away.
"I don't mind if you do what you were talking about," Kevin said without looking at him. "I'm just not interested."
"Ah... all right." Lance frowned and walked off in the other direction.
Peace stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to remember where they'd left off after that strangeness. "Dmitry? Yeah, I guess." Peace thought back to the conversation they'd had over dinner the night before. Dmitry seemed like a fairly normal guy. "Is this a good time for us to talk about, uhm, werewolves?"
Kevin nodded. "Sure. Let's go outside. Sun's still nice where the shatter hasn't grown."
"The shatter is the thing the monsters came out of, right?"
"Yeah. Iridescent shattered glass shape. You'll see it." Kevin smiled and started walking in the direction Lance had gone; Peace followed. "How long have you been what you are?"
"Uh, maybe six months? Or that's how long since I realized I could do things." Peace took off his jacket and held it under one arm, fluffing his hair a little and letting the air conditioning flow through to his neck before they went back outside. Last time he'd gone outside, it was about 90 degrees and humid. He wasn't Southern enough to count that as "the sun is nice", but he didn't want to complain, either.
"Okay. Have you met anyone else like us?"
"No."
Kevin nodded again. "Then I guess we'll start with whatever you want to know."
Peace paused a moment, his mind reeling at the possibilities. "Uh..." He stopped walking to stare into space. Kevin stopped as well and turned to look at him. "Uh, God, everything? I mean, where has all this stuff been all my life? Why is everything trying to kill me? Why did I start having dreams about- I don't even know how much was literal or- goddesses and, deep, personal, terrifying..." He paused again, his brow deeply furrowed, searching for words. "I don't even know how much of this another person could relate to."
Kevin's expression didn't change. Really, he didn't even blink. It was a little creepy. "I can relate to not knowing what the hell is going on. This isn't something that usually comes with an instruction manual. Unless you're Diana."
"Is she a werewolf?"
"Nah, she's something else." They turned down a corridor to a metal door that obviously led outside. "If it's easier, we can start with the practical and then see if we work around to the more esoteric stuff. If you've survived six months on your own, you can probably teach me something yourself."
"Cool. Ah..." Peace hesitated as Kevin opened the door. The heat started radiating through immediately, cutting the air conditioning like a pair of solid walls rubbing up against each other. "I don't know if this is something I shouldn't ask, but just to have one less question... what was that thing about?"
"Which one?"
"The thing the other guy is doing." Peace frowned. "Is it about the creatures?"
Kevin chuckled. "Nah. We had a talk, I gave him the impression I was religious. He's going to go talk to his God."
"Oh."
Peace followed Kevin outside, resigning himself to feeling awkward until he got to the part where he had to punch things.
Still need color tags to exist for Canary Yellow and Famous, btw. If they exist I can't seem to add them.
no subject
The speech pattern thing is something I've noticed myself. Dmitry is my oldest character and I've had a lot more practice writing him; Peace is next, of the characters in AGT. I was considering doing some Canvas/side-story stuff specifically about Diana to get in her head, so maybe focusing on that for all the major characters would be useful.
Again, thank you!