Envy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
exeggutorhead) wrote2015-05-12 05:05 pm
exeggutorhead) wrote2015-05-12 05:05 pm
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.
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.
text;
Well, it makes him feel awful.]
Have you come home yet?
[It should be obvious, he hopes, from the question that he considers Shark House Envy's home as much as his.]
text;
yeah I have, came in this morning
are you at the house?
[He's seen Heather and Henry, but at the moment he's just been skulking around and avoiding going into his and France's room, so it's entirely possible that he just hasn't run into Greed yet.]
text;
You in your room right now? I'll stop by when I get back.
text;
[And when Greed gets back, that's where he'll be still. He's at least cleaned up from this morning, so in looks he's normal. But how he's acting looks as out-of-place on him as the scruffy green beard he had earlier. He's sitting entirely still and quietly, staring down at the table and only looking up when he sees Greed.]
[There are dark, dark circles under his eyes. He doesn't know what to say.]
text;
[Even though Greed doesn't know what to say, he's always lousy as this kind of thing, he doesn't waste time coming home.
He sets the bag of groceries on the counter-- there's nothing that needs refrigeration, so he doesn't bother pulling them out of the bad. He can take care of that later. Greed sits down next to Envy, watching him. His expression is soft, cautious.
Greed doesn't know what to say, but he raises a hand to place it on Envy's shoulder.]
action
[And shouldn't he be able to be weak in front of Greed, now?]
[He starts slightly when Greed puts his hand on his shoulder, and then very nearly leans into it. Envy desperately craves contact right now. No matter how unusual it is for the two of them.]
You think it's too early to make use of that bar of yours?
[There's a weak note of humor in his voice, he's trying, but his voice is mostly just hoarse and dull.]
action
'Course not. It's never too early to use the bar.
[He's trying.
He'll always be lousy at comforting, but Greed can still try.]