exeggutorhead | 63rd Transformation [text

63rd Transformation [text | action for Shark House]

When Envy wakes up early Saturday morning, it's to an empty bed.

It isn't an unusual thing; France has work most mornings, or gets up first to cook breakfast. There are plenty of places he could be. Except Envy doesn't remember France getting out of the bed to begin with, which even these days usually wakes him up at least a little. With a barbed feeling of unease tugging at his gut, he decides that it's nothing. He'll just go downstairs and find France and feel stupid for worrying.

France isn't anywhere in the house. Or the yard. Or in sight on the street.

Nobody else is awake yet to ask. It's half an hour of turning the 'Gear over and over in his hands before Envy finally hits Send on the short text that he'd deleted and re-typed five times.

Error: This number is not registered.

Must have dialed wrong.

Error: This number is not registered.

Ha, he can't believe his fingers are so clumsy this morning. He must be really tired. There's a roaring in his ears.

Error: This number is not registered.

---

Envy doesn't entirely remember walking out of the city and onto the route south of Goldenrod, and heading into the woods that run alongside it. He's still holding his 'Gear in one hand, and he must have grabbed his bag on the way out of the house because its weight is digging into his shoulder. Vaguely, he remembers that these were the same woods he'd gone to after Nanao had vanished the first time, years ago. France had come to get him that time. Stopped him from trying to break a tree down with his fists and talked to him and calmed him down. France was always the one to come find him when people vanished.

When was the last time Envy'd said he loved him? He suddenly can't remember, it never was very often. France had said it yesterday.

Something in him finally snaps underneath the numb disbelief, and he swings the bag as hard as he can at the closest tree. It makes a satisfying sound as it slams against the bark and the fabric tears. So he keeps at it until the strap breaks and the bag falls to the ground, spilling cracked-open Potion bottles and bright packages of trail mix all over the dirt. Satisfying, but not nearly enough because the moment he stops everything comes rushing back.

The rest of the house would be awake by now. He could call them, tell them where he is. But as soon as he thinks it, he realizes that he's not going to.

This time, Envy doesn't want to be found.

--

[It's just after dawn on Tuesday morning when Envy finally creeps back to the house. He doesn't want to be alone anymore. He probably would have come back the night before...but he's still self-aware enough to know that he doesn't really want anyone to see him like this. Right now, he looks like HELL. Just about like what you'd expect someone who just spent several days in the woods during a rainstorm, barely sleeping and having violent fits against nature.]

[If nobody catches him on his way in, he's going straight to get cleaned up. He's not okay, not by a long shot, but even in this state he can only stand being covered in mud for so long.]

[Later on in the morning, he sends out a text to the network.]

France is gone, for whoever knew him. If anyone got a Pokemon from him, tell me.

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_{[After receiving a number of increasingly-worried text messages over the course of the weekend, Envy probably should have expected that his housemates would be on the lookout for his return.]

[Heather had dozed off sitting up on the couch-- it wasn't that she'd deliberately stayed up all night waiting-- NONE of them had, they weren't that neurotic, and they'd all arrived at the conclusion that Envy would show his face when he was ready.]

[... But there had been something good on TV, and hey, it couldn't hurt to keep an ear open for the front door...]

[When the sad, soaked Homunculus finally slips back into the house, she hears it and blinks awake, automatically stumbling upright off the couch.]}

--Envy, s'at you?

[Envy freezes in place when he hears her, swallowing hard. Of course someone would hear him in spite of his attempt at sneaking. It's just his luck.]

[He's tempted to stay quiet, or maybe to make his voice sound deeper and pretend to be Scar. He didn't want anyone to see him looking THIS pathetic, soaked through and streaked with mud, his eyes bloodshot. He's even got the scruff of a beard coming in.]

[But there's not any avoiding it NOW. He doesn't have the energy to try.]

[So he speaks up, his voice coming out in the sort of hoarse croak that's one shout away from a lost voice. He's been yelling a lot, these past few days.]

Yeah.

It's me.

[What else is there to say?]

_{[It's really a good thing he didn't try to pretend to be Scar.]

[Because REALLY, ENVY?]

[Heather appears in the doorway to the living room, rubbing one eye. And then his bedraggled form comes into focus, and she just-- lets out a sigh.]}

Oh, Envy...

_{[It's not an exasperated noise, OR a shocked one. Just-- just sad.]}

I'll get you a towel.

[Scar was the first person he could think of who might be sneaking in or out of the house at this hour!]

[Envy winces and frowns at that sigh. He hasn't exactly looked in a mirror, but he knows he must look like shit. There's nothing he can do to hide that.]

[He hates looking weak like this.]

Yeah, sure. I think I've brought half the rainstorm in here with me.

[The attempted joke comes automatically, but it rings hollow.]

_{[For once she doesn't really have a sassy quip to bounce back off of him. It would probably help if she did. Make things feel a little more normal.]

[But for now it's just easier to disappear briefly and grab a couple towels from the bathroom. She comes back with one held out and the other over her arm.]}

Here.

Did you get any of my texts?

Please tell me you weren't outside the entire time you were gone.

[Envy takes the towel readily, and tries to at least get his bedraggled, dripping hair a little drier. And it's a good excuse to not have to look her in the eye.]

I wasn't really checking.

[And definitely not looking at her now.]

I found some shelter. There was a tarp folded up in my bag.

_{[This, fortunately, is nothing like the time she marched home to confront him about Al-- she makes no attempt to force eye-contact.]

[She does puff out another quiet sigh, though.]

[Finding a tarp does not qualify as shelter, Envy. Like. AT ALL.]}

I'm gonna put a kettle on. You want tea or hot chocolate?

_{[There ARE two days' worth of dinners wrapped up for him in the fridge, but a hot drink will probably go down better right now than reheated leftovers.]}

[It totally counts as shelter. Especially when you don't know exactly what to do with it so you just wrap it around yourself like an awkwardly big poncho.]

[His back straightens and he actually looks up--still not quite looking her in the eyes, but closer to it than before--when she mentions hot drinks. That sounds so good to him right now. He nods, not at all tentatively.]

Hot chocolate.

I'll...I should go. Get cleaned up, I mean.

[He shifts awkwardly in place.]

I'll get the cocoa out.

_{[She starts to move towards the cupboard to get the kettle out, but pauses. She's not sure if it would be a good idea to follow him or not... the last thing he probably needs at this point is to feel smothered. Hell, SHE'D hate it if everybody tailed her around like her shadow after something like... this had happened.]}

... I'll bring it to you once it's ready, okay?

[He actually looks a little relieved. That was the right thing to say, Heather. He wants to be around other people, but being hovered over right now would just make him feel weaker than he already does. Like he needs to be watched.]

[But her letting him go start getting cleaned up without following him up right away? That's okay.]

Yeah, okay. I'll be upstairs.

[He goes past her and moves quickly upstairs, hoping that he doesn't get seen by any of his other housemates. From there it's right into the shower. Because he really has to get rid of all this mud. He pointedly avoided looking at the mirror when he walked in, but now that he can SEE all the grime coming off him and swirling down the drain...ugh.]

[He can't make himself care nearly as much as he usually would...but still. Gross.]

[He'll try to scrub it all off and get out as quick as he can, before she gets up there.]

_{[Nodding, she grasps his shoulder briefly before letting him go and turning to the stovetop.]

[Heather might have inherited a little of her father's overbearing nature when it came to the wellbeing (and behavior) of her friends, but she knows when to back off.]

[Once the cocoa's done, she heads up the stairs with a steaming mug of it-- she grabbed the biggest one in the cupboard, some giant gaudy Delibird-shaped one that Henry had found at a yard sale or something. Still, she doesn't knock until she hears the showerhead turn off. Nobody likes being barged in on in the middle of a shower.]}

Hey, Envy?

Drink's ready.

Can I come in?

[Envy almost jumps at the knock, even though he was half expecting it. He just secures a towel around his waist because hey, she's seen him in a swimsuit before, the only clothes in here are the filthy ones he walked in with, and anything else is too much effort right now. If she minds, she can tell him.]

Yeah, come on in.

[He could really use the company and that hot chocolate 8(]

_{[She must be fine with it, because when she walks in she doesn't mention the soggy clothes in the corner or the fact that none of them are on him. She's seen Henry wandering around in tighty-whiteys more than once. She can handle Envy in a towel. Now, if it had been LUST...]

[Wordlessly, she hands over a steaming holiday mug. There's marshmallows in it, because he spent the weekend under a goddamn tarp he clearly needs them.]

[Then she'll just lean on the sink, nursing her own smaller cup. She's not horribly thirsty, but Envy's probably in no mood to be openly doted on so she'd made some extra for herself to make the whole gesture seem slightly less mother-henny.]}

[He takes the mug with a little, grateful nod, gripping it as he takes a long sip. It's good, especially after his weekend in the woods, and he appreciates the marshmallows too.]

[He drinks a little more before he finally does look up and over at her...and gets a look at himself in the mirror over her shoulders. A tiny laugh bubbles up in his throat.]

Ha...a beard really doesn't look good on this form at all, does it?

[Something seems to wrench loose in his chest, and he laughs again, shoulders tensing enough to shake. His throat is tight and he can't seem to see right all of a sudden, everything's blurry.]

_{[This time, his attempt at a joke at least brings a smile to her lips, and she chuckles back.]}

Well, with a little TLC I'm sure you could pull it off. But yeah, little weird-lookin'.

_{[Then he up and breaks, and she can tell the moment it happens. It's a good thing, actually. It's better that his feelings can't be contained. Better to get them out NOW than let them stew like poison. But it's still not easy. Especially so for him.]

[She doesn't bother with soothing words, but she also doesn't waste any time in stepping over and laying a mug-warmed hand on his back and rubbing gently. He can cry his heart out if he wants, he's earned it. Poor bastard.]}

[He tenses automatically at the hand on his back, at the idea of reassurance and comfort because accepting it means admitting that he needs those things...but he doesn't move away from it, either.]

[He shoves the heel of his hand against one eye, realizing what's happening, but of course that doesn't stop anything. He doesn't sob or weep, just squeezes his leaking eyes shut and grits his teeth, little shudders running through his shoulders.]

What am I supposed to do now?

_{[Envy's not the first person she's consoled after a loss and he certainly won't be the last, but watching him break is a special kind of tough. Mostly because she hasn't seen it before.]

[There's nothing she can do to take the tears away no matter HOW much he obviously hates them, so she just keeps rubbing for the moment.]}

You keep going.

It's all any of us can do.

[He's just glad she hasn't mentioned the crying aloud. And, slowly and by inches, he's starting to relax into the contact.]

I know, I've lost people before.

[It's not even a true snap, he doesn't have the energy for that.]

This is just--I thought--

[He started to let himself think that France would be here forever. He'd always been there, since the beginning and through all the other vanished friends and family. And this time hurts in an entirely new and different way.]

I want him back. I know it doesn't matter what I want, but I do.

_{[She knows what he means. It's different when it's someone really important. She doesn't have quite the right basis for comparison-- Envy and France had been a couple for years. But she can guess that it's just as devastating as when she lost her father.]}

I want him back too.

He... he was really good for you.

_{[They all could see it.]}

But you don't know, man.

He might come back. Even years from now, he might.

He could.

Or he might show up on those weekends.

[But the weekends aren't the same, and him maybe coming back eventually...Envy doesn't want to dwell on the questions about that for long right now, doesn't want to consider the frightening not-so-good possibilities that come with it.]

[But the tears are coming under control at least, and he swipes at his eyes to clear them, straightening up more as he absently runs his hand over the rough beard, muttering.]

I've got to get rid of this.

[Although there's scrapes and bruises on the back of that hand, the reds and purples standing out in angry contrast to pale skin now that it's not covered by mud. He's clearly been hitting things that he shouldn't have been.]

_{[... Yeah. Some of the possibilities ARE frightening. And Heather can't rightfully ignore those, so she doesn't say any more on that topic.]

[But it at least looks like he's gotten himself a little more composed, which allows Heather to focus on the next order of business.]

[Brow furrowing, she stops the back-rubbing and reaches out to gently grab the colorful hand. She knows THAT look better than most, and she can tell EXACTLY what happened out there.]}

... Let me bandage that for you first. Okay?

[He winces slightly when she takes his hand, more out of embarrassment than pain. But it isn't as bad as it could be; nothing's broken, and the damage is mainly superficial.]

[A good thing about working for the circus is that even when he's not really thinking, it's becoming automatic to take care of his hands.]

...okay.

[He scoots around her to sit on the toilet seat...and holds up his other hand to show her. It's got similar injuries.]

_{[After the previous soul-baring conversation they'd had up here in the bathroom, now she at least knows where the first-aid kit is. Not that she doesn't have her own QUITE extensive one packed up with her other things, but it doesn't look like he's done anything to his hands that some disinfectant and bandages won't help. Plus whatever grime might have gotten on them got rinsed off already.]

[She tugs the kit out of the cupboard and opens it up, unraveling the guaze as she eyes the damage. Then she takes one of the hands and starts to carefully wrap it.]}

... What were you hitting, out of curiosity?

[Envy holds still while she wraps his hands, unusually still for him. Normally he'd fidget or complain about how human bodies get hurt so easily or something. But he doesn't move a bit, eyes focused downwards on his hands instead of meeting her eyes.]

...trees, mostly. I wasn't--I didn't punch them straight on, I know better than THAT. But I hit them enough for all that, I guess. I didn't really notice.

_{[Unlike his rather clumsy work on her war wounds awhile back, Heather is clearly very used to this sort of thing. She makes quick work of Envy's hands, tight enough to pad the wounds but not so tight as to cut off the bloodflow.]

[She nods as he 'fesses up to the irrational violence, tying the ends of the bandage in a neat little knot.]}

... Trees, huh.

Well.

Better than brick.

_{[With a humorless smirk, she holds up one of her own hands, curling her fingers to show the mottled white scarring on her knuckles.]}

[Action]

exeggutorhead - 2015-07-10 02:12 (UTC) - Expand

[Action]

foolishwren - 2015-07-17 18:06 (UTC) - Expand

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