Somewhere between July and December

[louboutinjudas]

1.
[ It wasn't the fastest car he'd ever driven, but it made better time than the old man's shitty station wagon had, and it was definitely faster than walking across the desert. None of the maps he'd found tucked under the seat had Hopeland on them, which was worrisome as all hell, but on one of the maps there was an orphanage marked, just off of a city called December.

The ghost he'd talked to on that mountaintop had told him he'd die in December, but that ghost had also ruined his last cigarette, so fuck that guy. If he died, he died, but first, he was going to make sure Miss Melanie and the kids were okay.

The sedan hums its way across the desert, kicking up a dust cloud that can be seen for miles. ]


2.
[ With a shudder and a hard jolt, the car comes screeching to a halt, the dash going dead as the engine seizes up. Wolfwood swears, punches the dash, then swears again when the solid dash nearly breaks his hand for his trouble. He'd managed to get the car hotwired, but apparently cars in this messed up version of Noman's were more different from the ones he knew than he'd realized. Is it out of oil? Out of charge? Not like he can do anything about it, whatever the problem.

Please ignore the man in black, standing next to a very dead car in the middle of absolute nowhere and screaming at the sky. It's therapeutic profanity, and it really is helping. ]


3.
[ Sunburned and exhausted, Wolfwood crests the hill and finally, there before him, sees the building that his map identifies as the December Orphanage. Even from a distance it's clear that the chaos that's affected the rest of the planet hit here, too -- there's clear bullet holes in at least one side of the building, walls that have collapsed, and the whole place seems as deserted as everywhere else he's been.

But he's here now, so he might as well have a look around.

He really wishes he still had his Punisher, though. ]

Comments

[graveresemblance]

[just for that Wolfwood's getting tucked in TAKE THAT]

[louboutinjudas]

[ Ow! Shit! No the fuck he's not! What's actually going to happen is that Livio is getting put in a headlock, and noogied. Sure it'll hurt his leg, but this is war. ]

[graveresemblance]

You little asshole, go to bed!

[and Livio's just wrapping those legs around him to pin him in turn]

[louboutinjudas]

[ He's down a limb, that's not fair! Those noogies might turn into punching, buddy -- okay, it's borderline slapping, but he's not actually trying to hurt Livio. It's not that kind of war! ]

I'm tryin' to! Some big oaf's crushin' the life outta me!

[graveresemblance]

OW-- you-- I'm trying to try too, but I got a little RAT clinging to me!

[more like they're both clinging. and this feels like-- like an almost, like when they were kids, this playful grappling]

[louboutinjudas]

Well then let go!

[ This has been the strangest day of his life -- and that's really saying something! -- but ending up here, in the orphanage, with Livio? It's everything he wished for, just a couple years too late.

No, fuck that. It's never too late. ]

I'm fuckin' wounded, have some respect for the wounded guy!

[graveresemblance]

YOU let go!

[he still hasn't, by the way-- he frowns]

I'm still a little hurt, too! Damn.

[louboutinjudas]

[ Livio can let go first! ...But Wolfwood can stop hitting first, how's that? ]

So that's two reasons for you to knock it off!

[graveresemblance]

I'm gonna knock your block off.

[he narrows his eyes]

Cut it out on the count of three.

[lets not do a repeat of the wound-mending]

[louboutinjudas]

All right, all right.

[ Ready? ]

Three.

[ Nope he's gonna stick Livio's face right in his armpit! ]

[graveresemblance]

[muffled:]

NICHOLAS!!!!

[louboutinjudas]

[ Can't hear you, laughing too hard! ]

[graveresemblance]

[now he's grabbing and slapping at Wolfwood, screaming this time]

[louboutinjudas]

[ Are they having a slap fight? Are they seriously having a slap fight? ]

[graveresemblance]

[they grew up to be little brats...again]

[louboutinjudas]

[ God dammit!

Okay, no, for real this, time, ow, hold up, hold up. ]

I yield, I yield! Shit, c'mon, I surrender.

[ He can't remember the last time he laughed this much. His stupid face hurts. ]

[graveresemblance]

[once he realizes there's some pain, there's some discomfort, Livio does release Wolfwood immediately.

but he's smiling]

Idiot. Go to bed.

[louboutinjudas]

Yeah, yeah.

[ The rain outside is nearly stopped and everything's gone quiet. Maybe he will close his eyes, just for a bit. ]

We'll figure this shit out in the morning, buddy.

[graveresemblance]

[sighing, he flops across the beds, dragging a blanket over him]

Yeah. It'll be alright. I know it.

[louboutinjudas]

[ He intends to stay awake, he really does. He was jut going to rest his eyes a minute, go over everything that's happened today. Decide what to do next.

But he closes his eyes and bam, he's out like a light. ]

[graveresemblance]

[his very, very heavy eyes flicker to Wolfwood's peacefully slumbering face and, anxieties at least stowed for now, he too falls asleep soon after]

[stormworm]

Not too far away in the grand scheme of things, the dead worm stirs.

Thunder rolls, a low and distant rumble muted by closed doors and sturdy walls, as small glowing-winged insects creep along walls and ceilings to where two battered men sleep. They're quiet, unnaturally so, their focus so absolute it has nothing to do with instinct alone, tracing the path Livio and Wolfwood took to their safe little space to sleep, the scent of their blood and sweat followed with quiet, relentless accuracy.

And outside, the walls creak as something heavy leans against them, the dim light through the windows on one side going dark before being replaced by pale glowing lines of electric blue in a slowly passing wave, whatever shape they're attached to too vast to be seen clearly through the glass. There's only darkness, and the lines, and a growing heaviness to the air.

The windows on the other side show the same lines, but these flow in a graceful curve like the edge of jaws or teeth scaled to monumental proportions. The eyes that appear, slitted like a cat's or worm's and the same sizzling blue as the lines, wink in and out as they pass one window at a time, casting their own pale, weak glow across abandoned children's beds. Searching, the black pupils widen and narrow in twitches and jerks before finding their targets and going still, three different windows framing a half dozen eyes between them, each nearly the size of a grown human and all fixed upon the two men within the building.

A small set of dice gently begin lifting off the floor, so slowly as to be easily missed at first.

Socks follow.

A discarded toy. Nothing bigger, nothing more than a tug on clothing and hair and the tingle of static for objects the size of the people.

A tiny arc of electricity jumps from one metal bedpost to another in a brief flash and crackle of ozone, and thunder reverberates through the ground and walls again, felt resonating in the chest more than heard with the ears as the scattering of worms through the building take to the air in a buzzing of wings, disappearing through any opening they can find back to freedom outside. The eyes sink downward, and the ground shakes again, the steady quiver of a burrowing thing passing by.

Dim natural light returns, the small floating objects clattering to the ground as gravity reasserts itself and the weight of atmospheric pressure lessens.

[louboutinjudas]

[ He's never been a heavy sleeper, but the day's been a long one, and he's snoring comfortably as the thunder outside returns, the wind -- surely it's the wind? -- causing the walls to creak and groan. The sound creeps into his dreams, sunshine-y patchwork visions of a much younger Livio crushed beneath darker memories, memories of electricity and machinery sending vibrations deep into his bones.

He tears himself out of the dream of Conrad's table with a jolt, and for a moment just stares dumbly at the ceiling of the children's room and the carnival of floating toys dancing through the air above him, unsure if he's still dreaming. Something bright moves past the windows on the far wall, bright lines on something very big, and okay, he is still dreaming.

But then the ground shakes, the distinctive earthquake of a grand worm going to ground, as gravity returns and all the trash in the air falls onto him. Shit. Not a dream!

He sits bolt upright, shaking Livio's shoulder roughly, ready to warn the other man to silence with a finger to his own lips. The worm's not dead, buddy. They may be in real trouble. ]

[graveresemblance]

[he's sleeping like the dead. the dead sleep like he does, except arms crossed over their chests. he's sprawled out until the shaking starts, his world-weary brow smoothed until the lights start to dance outside. his dreams shift, expression troubled, and when he's shaken awake his eyes are narrow, hands shaped into claws--]

The fuck.

[oh, hey, Razlo]

[louboutinjudas]

[ Wolfwood raises his hands briefly in apology -- damn, somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh? ]

Sorry, pal. [ He nods in the direction of the windows on the other side of the room, and he would already be heading in that direction if his fucking leg weren't broken. Fuck. He's gonna need crutches, what can he use for crutches? Broom handle? ] But I think our worm friend's back.