EVENT #010

[larkers]

WHO: Everyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam and any other megacity the Displaced happen to be in/travel to!
WHEN: May 28, 2512
WHAT: Golden-eyed monsters stream into New Amsterdam and other megacities the world over.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Violence, death, body horror, mind control, and transformation.

> EVENT #010

It starts in the middle of the night, when most everyone should be fast asleep in their beds, whether they're still taking up a cot in the safehouse or staying in their own apartment. One moment it's quiet, with most of the rest of the city having also turned in for the night, and then in the next? It isn't.

There will be mass confusion as the scope of the situation becomes clear. Monsters stream out onto the streets, thundering up the stairs of a train station, skittering out of construction sites, or climbing up the walls. Some of them fly. Others slither. Others run, loping forward with only one goal in mind: to find something to sink their teeth or claws into and to leave destruction in their wake at every turn. They are a horde, a swarm, a teeming mass of creatures that have no intention of stopping. All of them have eyes or bodies that shine gold and wherever they go, they seem to leave decay. Concrete turns black and porous where they step; plants wither and die.

There is no real preparing for an attack of this scale. New Amsterdam will awaken as the sound of these monsters crashing down on cars or bursting through storefronts or into homes forces people to run screaming from their dwellings or places of work. There is no discrimination in who these beasts might target, and no discernable pattern in where they go.

All that one can really tell is that they seem to want to spread out. They're constantly on the move, leaping from victim to victim, and they're relentless. No one knows why they've come, where they're come from, or what will make them stop. At least for now, the only option seems to be to cut down their numbers. It's time to fight the horde.

The first night will be utter chaos as everyone reacts to the monsters' sudden appearance, but by the morning hours news reports will start streaming in. This is not only happening in New Amsterdam, or wherever else a Displaced might be staying, but seemingly everywhere. Some cities seem harder hit than others, but practically every megacity is overrun with the creatures.

With no way of knowing who might have unleashed the monsters, all of these cities have essentially been turned into battlefields. Not many civilians are prepared to fight for their lives, and it will take a mobilization effort from the police, Morningstar, the Displaced, and anyone else who's willing to take up arms in order to survive.

◉ As a note, this attack starts simultaneously in multiple cities. While it's the middle of the night in New Amsterdam, the monsters will appear at other times of the day in other parts of the world depending on the timezone!

> BESTIARY

So as to not make this post overly long, we have compiled all of the monster descriptions into a Google doc here for everyone's reference!

> (NOT SO) SAFEHOUSE

For those Displaced who stay at (or spend any time in) the safehouse under the hoverbike shop or the Red Wings bar, they may become aware of the presence of the monsters sooner than others, due to the fact that at least a few of the giant mole monsters will end up burrowing up through the concrete basements to wreak havoc. The screeching noise of steel claws tearing through the floor will be sure to wake up even the deepest of sleepers.

This won't just be an occurrence on the first night of the attack, either. Unless something is done to deter them, tunnels leading straight into the safehouses will continue to be created, allowing even other types of monsters to find their way through (the smaller ones, that is). Where exactly they're coming from won't be entirely clear, though it's a safe bet to assume that they must have originated in the cave system somehow.

Suffice to say that El won't be happy about the safehouse being compromised in this way, though this isn't a possibility that ze or anyone else could have really prepared for. While ze can't do much to physically help with containing the invasion of the monsters, ze will offer whatever resources ze can—though Morningstar is going to be busy in plenty of other locations, as well, and they only have so many resources.

The Red Wings, being a Displaced-operated location, will also be in need of assistance, especially if it's meant to be a point of safety and a hub for handing out supplies. Speaking of—

> RED WINGS HQ

As things begin to deteriorate, Clarke Griffin and Stephen Strange sink their resources into Red Wings, adapting it into a base of operations for the Displaced. Clarke also called in PRESERVE to set up a checkpoint here, too, and anyone—from the Displaced to civilians—will be able to seek aid here. (Of course, Red Wings will be just one of a few locations throughout the city where they attempt to set up shop, but Red Wings may prove to be more fortified thanks to the talents of the Displaced.) Civilians will not have access to Red Wings' safehouse, however. That's still something that Clarke and Stephen want to keep under wraps, for now.

In the bar proper, there will be medical aid, supplies, and even weapons for those who can use them. During rare moments of downtime, the gang at Red Wings will also work on reconnaissance missions to find safe spots throughout the city to provide much needed protection and safety for the people of New Amsterdam. This task may be much easier said than done. Gathering intel on the monsters is a high priority, too, and for anyone who tries to capture a monster to learn more about them, the basement might be a good place to hold them. If the Displaced are going to be able to fight back, they need to know exactly what it is they're fighting.

However, the truth of the matter is that this attack happened quickly, and in the middle of the night to boot. As much as the group at Red Wings tries, resources are stretched thin, and they didn't have time to prepare as much as they wanted to. Supplies need to be rationed, bandages and stitches used for wounds that really need them, and if you're not a great shot, it might be best to let someone with more training take that gun you're eyeing.

More than anything, despite the difficulty, this is a way for the Displaced to help out as many people as they can, and a way for them to cement their humanitarian efforts and affect the population's opinion of them. The citizens of New Amsterdam are sick of this cycle of destruction, and are just waiting to be empowered. Now's the time to teach them to fight back and help them protect their city.

Red Wings' safehouse underground will be damaged by burrowing monsters as well, and will need protection. The bar itself will escape relatively unscathed.

> INVESTIGATING / GATES

Maybe the best way of dealing with the monsters isn't violence at all. Maybe there's a more strategic way to deal with this.

The monsters will be moving from city to city via the gates, just like the Displaced do. There might be a way to keep them from spreading, or at least slow them down, by shutting down the gate network. Of course, with the mag trains shutting down, getting back home could be an issue. One option is the delivery network of hover trucks. They'll still be running to get supplies from city to city, but their batteries don't run indefinitely, so these will be relatively local trips only. No getting from New Tokyo back to New Amsterdam with this method, unfortunately, and convincing a driver to let you hitch a ride might be a challenge, but it's doable.

Of course, there's also the question of where these things are coming from. Intrepid characters might be able to track them back to their nests, which are tucked away in wildly different places depending on the city. In New Amsterdam, they might be in the caves below the city. In other places, they might not be in the city proper at all, but just outside of it. It's important to keep in mind that the nests are far away from any of the action taking place elsewhere. Tracking these origin points may provide some answers, but the cost would be less involvement in the crisis taking place.

And then there's the matter of the monsters themselves. How can you fight an enemy you know nothing about? For those determined or crafty enough, capturing them might be an option, although this will take some creativity. Once these creatures are captured, they'll need to be kept contained, and kept alive. Just because they're monstrous doesn't mean they don't have to eat, after all, and some will need special environmental considerations as well, such as the mind control slugs.

What happens after that is up to the Displaced. Is dissecting them the best bet? Their internal anatomy won't be wildly different from most "normal" animals, with the exception of some creatures who have strange appendages or the like. Still, this might give the Displaced a better idea of how they operate and what their weak spots are. Sending samples to a lab is another possibility, if the Displaced can figure out how to safely store those samples. After all, the world is in a crisis, and no one is running tests at the moment.

All monsters, though, seem drawn to the blue light. When a Displaced uses a power or activates the empathy bond, the creatures will lock onto it, utterly transfixed, and if this is done enough times, that gold glow of theirs will intensify. What does it all mean? Maybe figuring that out will be a pathway to stopping their attacks.

> PITCHING IN

While all of this is going on, it certainly won't be just the Displaced who are heading out into the streets to try and stem the flow of the monster attack. These creatures are certainly not holding back, and no matter how much work might be put in, their numbers are overwhelming. Plenty of people will end up dead as a result, ripped to shreds or dragged off somewhere to be eaten. Yet, for some reason, these monsters are not as vicious toward the Displaced. They'll engage them in a fight and injure them, but they never go so far as dealing a fatal blow.

Seeing how that's not the case for the rest of the populace throughout the world, however, some groups and organizations will be rising up to do their part.

Police departments will be mobilizing in every megacity to put the monsters down, and while they are armed, it's not on the same level as the UNA. They also don't have any sort of training that's prepared them to fight monsters, but they'll still be putting their lives on the line to put a dent in the monsters' onslaught. When it comes to enforcing regular law and order, they certainly won't have the bandwidth for anything like that. Then again, most people won't be in any position to take advantage and commit crimes either, given the chaos that will be a constant everywhere.

Morningstar will also be jumping into action around the world. The New Amsterdam branch will be most likely to work alongside the Displaced and share some of their resources, particularly with those who are signed up as official agents or those who've supported them in the past. In cities like New Prague and New Beijing where the Displaced have made some contact with Morningstar before, they'll also be open to working with the Displaced. However, their resources are by no means robust. Morningstar is an organized rebel group, but they're hardly an official army in any sense of the word. They might be able to hand out a weapon here or there and they have a safehouse set up in almost every city, but beyond that, they'll mainly be getting boots on the ground to help with the fighting.

UNA soldiers who have been left without any sort of purpose or guidance will now have an opportunity to put some of that training to use. Their involvement will be much more scattered, though in some cases small groups of these soldiers who used to work in units together will reconnect in their effort to fight off the horde. However, having been cut off from the UNA in an official capacity, they won't have much in the way of gear or weapons. They're still formidable fighters, though, and now might be the perfect time to reach out and make a connection with some of them.

Mercenaries belonging to various different outfits, depending on what city they're based in, will also be joining the cause. Whether they're acting out of a basic desire to survive the attacks or if they're actually being paid by someone to go out there and risk their lives will be less clear, but they're some of the best-equipped fighters (other than the police). They also won't really find much reason to protest any of the Displaced pitching in to fight with them. The more firepower, the better, right?

A group of regulars from the New Amsterdam fighting rings will be rising up to add their fuel to the monster-fighting fire, as encouraged by Hawke and whoever else might know them well enough to reach out. Given that some of these people have illegal mods to enhance their strength or cybernetic attachments that can do impressive amounts of damage, some of them might hold their own against the monsters. Hell, some of them might even ask the Displaced to demonstrate some of their powers if they end up fighting together, as word of their abilities has become more known among their ranks. Either way, they'll be jumping into the fray with quite a bit of gusto.

PRESERVE will be involved on the other end of these efforts and will be doing their best to tend to the wounded and the dead, along with finding shelter and safe spots for people to barricade themselves from the attacks. It's not like the grand majority of civilians could stand a chance against these monsters, after all, yet not all of them can rely on their homes to be safe enough to stay in. They'll be quick to accept an offer of Displaced help, as they'll be doing their best to try and drag the recently dead to hospitals to get them put into medi-units before they're too late. Along with what's set up at Red Wings, they'll also be cobbling together other relief spots throughout the city for taking care of wounded and offering up what supplies they have (food and water, medical supplies, etc).

And what are the corporations doing in all of this? Well, suffice to say, mainly just panicking. Unsurprisingly, they're not much help during a crisis like this, with most of the super-rich opting to hide away in whatever highly secure bunkers they might have. Too bad that these bunkers might not prove so secure in the face of these attacks. Could that prove to be an opportunity if someone went looking?

> FINAL OOC NOES

Please refer to the OOC EVENT POST for all OOC info, including suggestions for directions on how to engage with the event. Given the spread out nature of this event, as well as the amount of additional details provided here, please direct all questions to our QUESTIONS thread below. This is, naturally, a huge event in terms of scale, and so we're certain there are aspects of it we haven't covered and questions that have yet to be answered. We do encourage that all of our players use the event planning post for any additional ideas and for touching base!

Please do not begin to thread out any aftermath until AUGUST 8, 2020, which is when we will put up the aftermath log and OOC post. If this date changes, we will provide a gamewide update as needed! As a note, the August calendar will be posted alongside the aftermath!

As a reminder, there is one power level up available for this event, granted for a thread of at least 5 log/action comments containing your character utilizing their power in some way during the event itself. They will need to reach the 5 comments required by SEPTEMBER 11, 2020 to be eligible. Submission will be handled on the wrap up post.

Our Activity Check will be posted AUGUST 1 at 12 AM UTC. It will run for seven days and close on AUGUST 8 at 12 AM UTC.

Have fun and fight some monsters! Or … whatever else you might do with them. 😉😏 Your secret's safe with us. 😙

> NAVIGATION

Comments

[evocation]

[Kyna holds her arm out, resists the urge to roll her eyes. How much blood is he going to get off of her by gently pouring water over the wound? Probably not much.

She feels backed into a corner here, like they're both playing these stupid games around the elephant in the room, so as she watches him, she steels herself. Fuck it.]

You know, it usually takes more for me to ghost people. Was it the earthquake that did it? Or was it that dream you said you can't remember?

[wittingly]

[ Skrrrt, like a record scratch or nails on a chalkboard. It feels like friction on his mind, the kind of confrontation he typically deftly avoids. Usually the ghosting in and of itself is enough to avoid accusations about all that ghosting he's doing.

Her answer for a little bit is just the sound of the faucet running, then the glass filling up, then round two of lukewarm water washing away wet blood.

His mind resorts to what it knows best: dodge, duck, dip, dive, dodge. If you can dodge a wrench you can dodge an emotionally uncomfortable conversation. ]

You really think now's the best time for this?

[ As uncomfortable as his brain is, his voice at least sounds mild and steady. You almost can't even tell it's fake as hell. ]

[evocation]

Yeah, I do.

[Because Kyna has never had a great sense for timing, sure, but being in close proximity to him while she can practically see the anxiety rolling off of him is driving her nuts. And because, if he's anything like her, if that dream was anywhere near truthful, ghosting her sucks for him, too.]

You do remember, don't you?

[wittingly]

[ You know what would be super cool is if on top of all of their interpersonal drama right now Kyna brought up his nightmare about his dead mom. That would be, like, the best addition to this conversation right now.

His hackles flair up. Prickly, practically a cactus. ]

Can I just patch up your fucking wound right now, Kyna?

[ You know, the giant gross one that looks terrible and is still gently oozing despite the belt wrapped around your arm??

He tears his eyes away and settles them on the buckle; blue chest glows as he detaches the center part of the clasp and shapes it into something new. Thin, sharp, gently curved. A pretty awesome needle for sutures, thank you very much. ]

[evocation]

We can multitask.

[She says it sharply, like a dare some kid at a party expects you to chicken out on. If her eyes weren't locked on his face, trying desperately to read his expression, she'd be impressed with his power. Maybe she will be later. Right now, she just wants him to admit it.

He's not touching her, so maybe that's why she gets that sudden rush of courage. Maybe it is sympathy, the fact that she actually gets it. Maybe it's just that she saw so much of him in that dream that she knows he didn't want to share, and it only feels fair to do the same.

Hey, it worked with Jason. Not in the same way, not the way she wants it to work with Ian, but it's a start. Still, she has to dig her nails into her palms, to keep herself from trembling from apprehension or pain.]

The reason I was sitting there, waiting for my dad, is because he never fucking showed up. But every birthday of his until I started high school, I'd park myself on that stupid couch and tell myself I was just there in case. That I didn't care if he showed or not.

[wittingly]

[ A muscle in his jaw thumps, he sucks his cheek in to bite it and make it stop. Behind her is dental floss; it's not ideal, but he's used it before. It'll work until they can get her to a healer — Jyn, maybe, because it's pretty similar to what happened to his shoulder. He still has scars, but it was over in like thirty seconds.

Threading it through his needle is a pretty good excuse not to look at her still. Rather, cheating and opening up one eyelet of the needle and then attaching it back again with his power. Look at that, he's three for three.

He's trying really hard not to let her story pang through his chest like it wants to. It shouldn't resonate so much; first of all, he never knew his father. Can't miss something you never had, right? Second of all, he had his mother for a long time. Granted, she missed every Christmas and she didn't bother fighting to stay with him in the end, but that's not the same thing.

It's different.

It's irrelevant.

No comment. He's just not gonna say a fucking word about it. ]

This is gonna hurt.

[ He warns, eyeing her arm. His hands are pretty steady, he can probably pull it off without using the other to hold her in place and anchor himself...

He hesitates, weighing his strategy for practicality. If he fucks up and jabs her in the arm with a needle, she won't even have to hit him, he'll feel like a big enough asshole on his own. ]

[evocation]

[The silence stretches out, and Kyna realizes her spine has gone ramrod straight, shoulders hunched up. She's never been good at waiting, but she waits for this, ignoring the way her heart rate has ratcheted up. She doesn't talk about her dad with anyone, and this feels like standing on the edge of a cliff.

And then he brushes it off. Acts like she never even mentioned it. Somehow, that's worse than if he'd told her he didn't care. Hurt flares up, then anger, defensive and seething. She manages, just barely, to stamp it down, because she still knows what he's doing. Now that they're face to face, it's so fucking obvious. Is she this transparent when she tries to keep herself carefully distanced? For all her frustration with him, the cowardice of it is making her so much angrier at herself, for every time she's panicked and shoved someone away.

He's eyeing her arm like he's trying to figure out exactly how to do this without touching her, and suddenly that loneliness hits her again, laced with self-loathing. There's a tiny part of her that's still trying to insist it's her fault, but the truth is there in his face, plain as day. Impulsively, she reaches out with her free hand to grab his wrist, fingers sticky with drying blood.]

Are you more scared of me than the fucking monsters?

[wittingly]

[ Blood-stained fingers wrap around his wrist and both of their chests glow, casting a blue tone over their faces and the space between them. Everything in him floods into her immediately, a lot of it without much context.

Fear — in two different shades.
Concern
Defensiveness
Frustration
Panic
Repressed ache
Old hurt
Anger

On top of it all, a sudden sharp snap of some combination of too many things to properly pick out but that nonetheless are instinctively discernable: that visceral panic over being exposed, the flaring up of absolute affront, and the knee-jerk need to lash out over it. ]

God damn it, what the fuck?

[ Congratulations, Kyna, you have unlocked an achievement. Gone is that constant, deliberate control. No more calm facade, unflappable affect, cool distance. It's replaced with a too-loud vociferation, practically barked as he tries to yank his hand away from her. ]

[evocation]

[So many of his emotions mirror hers, and even his reaction is familiar. He yanks his hand back and she lets go, forcing her gaze to stay trained on his face, whether he looks away or not.]

If you didn't want to touch me, you should have found someone else to do this.

[Her voice is trembling, betraying how terrifying this actually is for her. But she's right—she's right—and suddenly she's speaking all in a rush, some of that defensive facade faltering.]

You're worried about me, and you were worried during the earthquake, too. You were freaked out. Is that what scared you off?

[wittingly]

[ Yeah, okay, in hindsight he realizes it would've been better for literally anyone else to do this. Will would have been a better choice, probably, it's just that he didn't really think. It was an impulse, from wounded to tending the wound in the span of a heartbeat. Now he's in too deep to back out and he hates it.

Hates the tremor in her voice, hates the alarm bells going off in his head about how serious this conversation is getting and how it's about to touch on somewhere he can't reel it back from. ]

Jesus Christ-

[ He snaps, peeling back a foot and angling his body away — but there's nowhere to go, so he's got to turn right back in again, which gives off an impression not terribly unlike one of those caged big cats in a cramped space. ]

Look-- this is too fucking much, okay? All of this, this is too much. The sky is raining down fucking monsters, there was a fucking earth quake, nothing scared me off— you're about to bleed out, can I please just stitch your fucking wounds together?

[ Structured like a question, but framed like a demand with assertive tension lacing his shoulders. ]

[evocation]

[She's not sure how she expected this to go. She thought it would be a fight, sure, but she's rapidly approaching that stage where she's running out of ideas. She doesn't know how to deal with this when she's not wound up and shielding herself with anger.]

Then do it.

[Kyna holds her arm out, and even though she's still trying to hold his gaze, there's mounting fear in her eyes.]

You were avoiding me, and it started after the earthquake. We had sex in a fucking closet and now you won't even touch me. Even in that dream, you were— [Deep breath. Get it together.] You were scared and then you shoved me out. It's... It's always going to feel like too much. Right?

[It always feels like too much for her. But what if he just throws this in her face again, too? What if he makes sure she's not going to bleed out and then never speaks to her again?]

[wittingly]

[ She holds out her arm, and there isn't a single fucking excuse he can find not to take it. His frustration is written plain on his face when he finally reaches out to grab her by the wrist.

He's just gonna grit his teeth and bear this, and apparently just... let her dig into everything he keeps to himself deliberately, intentionally, completely. It's like biting down on a nail file.

That discomfort is underlined by a stinging kind of hurt, sixteen years old again in Weaverville, California.

It's always going to feel like too much.

Yeah, yes it is. ]

I don't do--

[ He bites it off, intently focused on the needle and pushing it through skin with deft, clever fingers. ]

I don't get involved, okay? We got too serious, and I don't—

[ He doesn't even know how to say what he means to say. That much is probably clear by the feelings pulsing through him. ]

[evocation]

[Kyna is so focused on him, on everything he's saying and feeling, that when the needle pushes through her skin she flinches. She bites her lip, struggling for a moment. That anger that was so prominent before is slowly bleeding away. Now it's all just fear and hesitation and underneath all of it, understanding. She never got involved either, not until Sam half-bullied her into it in that gentle way of his. But she isn't Sam, and she knows she can't manage that strategy.

Besides, she's realizing bit by bit that somehow he's more skittish about this than she is. His threshold for "too close" is so much lower, and it's simultaneously comforting, knowing that the roles are switched, and entirely anxiety-inducing.

Kyna's quiet for a moment, focusing on making her breaths slow and even, working the tremor from them. It's an excuse to stall, but maybe he'll think she's just breathing through the pain of the stitches.]

Too serious how?

[Her voice is quieter now, less intense, like she's afraid she might scare him away, make this worse somehow.]

Too serious as friends? We weren't dating.

[wittingly]

[ He wants to stay pissed off. It's rare, he does everything he can to keep his temperament even because that feels like the smart thing, it feels like the good thing. You can't be an asshole if you've got your temper in check the entire time, right?

But once he's pissed off, he tends to stay that way. Really revel in it, like he's getting it all out at once. He wants to seize it with both hands and pull it over every single other emotion he's feeling so that she doesn't get any of them.

But he can't, because it's bleeding out of her and it's sucking his with it. Trying to grab it is like trying to snatch water out of the drain with your bare hands.

He chews his tongue. Pulls the needle out the other side, and the floss goes cleanly through with it. ]

It's not about dating.

[ He mutters, starting on stitch number two. ]

I don't like getting attached to people, or like. Dependent on them. But you were wearing my fucking sweater and I was wrapped around you during a fucking earthquake, and that's...

[ Another shake of his head.

No, that's not in his comfort zone. ]

I can't do it. I'm sorry. I just need a fucking break.

[ Cool as his tone might be, it's almost impressive to find that it doesn't give away the twang in his chest. Unfortunately, she can feel it. No hiding like this. ]

[evocation]

[She's never, ever been able to be that open about her own matching fears. The people she somehow manages to get close to just... figure it out eventually. She's impressed, and she doesn't care if he feels it, even if he's managing to keep his tone distant.]

I get it.

[But he knows that, right? He has to at this point.]

I don't... I mean, stuff like that doesn't usually freak me out, like the sweater. But I tell myself I need a break and then I just... never go back.

[Which is what she's assuming he was going to do. And maybe that could be enough, maybe she should leave it there, but she fights past that fear and old ache and continues. It feels like she needs to, even though her voice is soft and unsteady and her head is bowed.]

I just always figure people are going to leave anyway. So when you... You know.

[wittingly]

[ He doesn't know how in the hell to wrap his head around that feeling of being impressed. It's absolutely left field, and it gets his brow wrinkling up as he stares down at his work.

She'll get a pulse of recognition and familiarity at never go back, confirmation that yeah, that's... pretty much how he banked on it going. Not necessarily how he wants it to go, even if that doesn't make sense. Just resignation about it happening regardless.

I just always figure people are going to leave anyway--

Guilt. He chokes it down defiantly, tries to crush it under faltering determination.

Bitterness. ]

Everything ends. It's a law of physics. Relationships aren't the exception.

[ He mutters, pulling thread through. ]

[evocation]

[Kyna considers that, lifts her head a bit to watch him work. He's good at this. Maybe not as good as Sam, but who can compete with a guy who can make a wound like this vanish with a wave of his hand?

The truth is, she's not sure she believes what he's saying. Maybe he believes it, but... She's known plenty of relationships that lasted. Still, it's hard to speak up again, to work through it. Even now, part of her is afraid he's going to bail. She continues hesitantly, as though testing her response.]

I don't think that's true. I think...

[How does she say this? She's all in now, so it's not worth it to back out, right? She just can't let herself think of what will happen if this goes sideways.]

I... fuck up too much, you know? Other people make it work.

[But she can't. Nico and Sam are exceptions, not the rule. And does Nico even count, considering he's her brother?]

[wittingly]

[ Another flush of guilt, and he falters the stitching to close his eyes and reel himself back in again.

A beat later he resumes. ]

You didn't fuck up.

[ He murmurs it with an almost resigned-sounding sigh. Some cousin of apologetic, maybe. ]

You didn't do anything wrong.

[ Not to it's not you, it's me her, but it's the truth. She was good, and that's the problem isn't it? ]

[evocation]

Yeah. I figured that out.

[She didn't fuck up this time, anyway. She still might, but she doesn't want to think about that right now. Kyna chews on her lip for a second.]

I was so pissed at you.

[Mostly isn't, anymore. That's something, right? But it's also probing a little—is he still going to think this is too much? Are they still not going to talk after this?]

[wittingly]

[ Well, okay, good. As long as she knows. He still feels like an asshole in hindsight, that the way it played out could've made her feel like she did something wrong. It wasn't about that, not intentionally, so much as it was just about steering heat away from himself so he could extract himself more easily.

She had and has every right to be pissed. ]

Sorry.

[ It's quiet, and it's short, but it's earnest at least. He is sorry, and he'd say more if he wasn't already giving away way too much of himself. ]

[evocation]

[She watches him stitch for a bit, because all those huge, intense emotions are starting to fade away, leaving her feeling just... drained. Exhausted. Maybe the blood loss isn't helping much with that, either.

But she can't just leave it here. She needs to ask, so, quietly, ignoring the vulnerability that creeps into her voice:]

Are we... you know. Okay?

[wittingly]

[ How in the hell is he even supposed to answer that?

He takes his hand away from her wrist, not to end contact but to scratch at his eyebrow with his thumbnail. It's an unconscious tic, and it's back in place after a second. ]

I mean yeah, I never-- Kyna, I was never... pissed at you, or upset with you, or like...

[ You know, anything like that. It's just that one thing, that same thing that hasn't changed just because they've talked about it.

He blows out another frustrated breath, but it's muted and it's quiet.

How in the hell does he put this into perspective? ]

In the last, like, fifteen years nobody I've met has ever known my mom's name. Nobody's been in my apartment — you know, before my apartment got ripped out of the ground. I haven't been to anybody's place for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I literally- I literally don't do... this. I don't know if I'm even capable of what it feels like you want.

[ Letting himself. Opening up, getting attached, choosing to be vulnerable or whatever. So if that's what she's expecting from him right now — Jesus, what the fuck is he even supposed to do? What makes this any different? It's not even yet a matter of if he wants to change, he doesn't even know if it's possible.

He is out of touch with everything deeper than skin. ]

[evocation]

[It's odd, so, so odd to see all these issues she's always struggled with reflected in him, but cranked up to eleven. She's always had Christmases and Thanksgivings with her mom's family, even if they were awkward as hell, even if she's always had to brace herself for them. She's always known that even during their worst fights, she could call her brother and he'd be there, no questions asked. She can't imagine not having those things, even when with everyone else it feels like she's constantly bracing herself for the other shoe to drop. He must have been so, so lonely.

But still. Kyna has spent most of her life feeling like she's at some sort of disadvantage, like everyone else understands how to open up in a way she just doesn't. Talking about this with Ian feels like even ground, but there are still things she's terrified to tell him, things she's terrified to tell anyone, so his certainty that he's incapable of... whatever it is pulls her up short.]

What do you think I want?

[wittingly]

[ Maybe they wouldn't be cranked up to eleven if his mom had family. If there'd been anyone left over after she passed away. If he had a sibling. Anybody to wheel him back from self-isolation in the formative year or two after she passed away.

When he retreated into himself during that first year of grad school, all his college friends fell out of touch. Moved on with their lives or their post-graduate schools or their families. Stopped reaching out when he stopped answering them.

When he resurfaced again, it was after an iron box had been welded around parts of himself.

He puffs out a breathe, the endless impossible search for words for things he's refused to talk about. ]

I don't know. Something deeper than fucking... karaoke. The... go through an earthquake and fucking... bond over it emotionally kind of something?

[evocation]

[Kyna isn't really sure how you bond emotionally over an earthquake. She was worried about him, absolutely. She was completely grateful he saved her ass, yeah. It sucked and they got through it together, which counts for something, but she's not sure how she'd talk about it. The only reason she brought it up to him in the first place is because he was already acting weird, and that was an offer that she didn't really have a strategy for.

She nudges his leg with her toe gently, an almost playful motion, but she's too wrung out to really manage it. She does want those things, sure. Not just with Ian—with anyone. She's just not entirely sure how to make sure they stick.]

Ian, this is like, the longest, most terrifying talk I've had with anyone in a long time. I suck at this shit, too.

[Admitting it in an honest way, a way that isn't just her trying to deflect, is kind of a relief. She's had productive conversations with other people here, but nothing quite like this.]

It's okay if you suck. It's okay if you don't want to talk. I just don't want you ignoring me and giving me some bullshit about your super secret totally real project making you too busy.