#ghosthuntcr

Tell Me + The Truth!

@ghosthuntcr // Shielding Others

Artair can't form the words to answer at first. They coagulate and stick in his mouth like the blood he swallows down. It stains his teeth and he swipes his tongue over them before he speaks.

"I-it-- it's okay. I'm okay. I--- I think it missed. I'm--- I'm just stuck." There is no way to truly block out all the pain. It grinds into him with reality's heel, with a fervor that nulls any chance to dissassociate. There is no escape and it all feels like teeth in a cavern like this.

The cave-in has him pinned from the chest down, and he can feel where rock has punctured him beneath the rubble. That his voice doesn't wobble is a testament to his effort, and to just how many moments he has been here. Here in the countless times he has to be a shield because it's what he's good for, suffering and desperate to bury it all beneath a soothing smile. It is something he is conditioned for, though. It feels good even as it hurts, seeing Steph beside him, unscathed save for a few scuffs. He's safe. And he is made for pain, deserves it. He will take it in and hold it there until he's stronger, until it can't reach him anymore.

So he persists and tries to bury it in the ground, even as the crushing weight grinds against his bones and tears through viscera, radiating its uncaring agony through him. He tries as it crushes him, as it caves into him, as it treats his body like a plaything in a hydraulic press, weight compounding with every minute against his broken frame. There's a moment where he's silent so he doesn't make a noise, throat squeezing blood and an overwhelming loss of self back down. But he just has to endure. He's made for it and he won't die, not forever. He'll be fine and it won't matter soon. Steph isn't hurt. That's worth it. He doesn't need this guilt too.

His brow beads with sweat and his his hair is splayed under him, strands pinned in rubble. His face is bloodless and pale, but he smiles and speaks with a radiating calm.

"It--- it'd be good for you to get out of here, Steph." He has to pause not to wheeze. Some of the weight on his chest is increasing. He continues in that relief-threaded, mellow tone once he has enough air in his lungs. "This cave is dangerous with the highway above vi-- vibrating through the tunnels. I'm okay, but-- but it might be good to call for help. That scratch looks--- it looks pretty nasty too. I'll try to-- to get myself out, maybe? I might be able to squirm free if I'm careful. But-- but if you don't call anyone, no one will know there's trouble."

That he can think enough to be reasonable feels monumental. He can hardly focus and his vision is starting to blur. He has to exhale with so much control. But Steph came in alone, and he followed to make sure nothing happened. It was all he could think of.

@ghosthuntcr // Getting to Know You

"Welcome t' me humble abode!" Jace cheerily swings the door open with a hip-check, keeping hold of what of Steph's things he was toting. He lugs it inside, bee-lining for the nearby couch. "Just settin' this down for a mo', but t'bed 's'all yers fer t' night!"

Jace's path back from work takes him along the sidewalk by the rec center. Sometimes, to shave off a minute of walking he would even cut right through the center of the lot! Today he didn't though, just enjoying the brisk fall air that was steadily turning to a winder chill. The leaves originating from the plants built into the infrastructure was still those pretty oranges and yellows and reds, and old browned ones crunched beneath his shoes when he aimed for them on the sidewalk. It was a good day, a fast one, and he was home free.

At least he was, until he heard the cacophony of caterwauling from somewhere in the lot.

He has a soft spot for animals of course, so he doesn't even hesitate to veer right into the lot. He followed the rabid cries until he spots a Siamese cat, doing its absolute best to squeeze out of the slit through the window of a vehicle.

He recognizes the car! It's an impala which he knows from that one show about the crime-solving brothers he watched as a teen. And his friend Steph owns one too. He's the only one in town who does, he's almost positive.

It's weird not seeing Steph around though. But he has more important matters. Namely, the poor vocal kitty who is inside. Remind him to scold Steph later about locking an animal inside a vehicle! They could overheat so fast that way!

"Hang on buddy, I'll figure this out!" He speaks to the little cat. And boy do his words strike true faster than he thought, when the door is unlocked and opens like a charm!

You're not too late at all!

For the song, I've settled on Divinyls by the Night Flight Orchestra

For the fragrance I've picked Sky by Anna Sui

Talk About ___

Butch can’t help but cackle at their attempt to remedy what could have been perceived as a negative attribute, and maybe it was to an extent. But he’d come to accept the dumbass gene he’d inherited by now, taking it in stride and using his true strengths to his advantage. So perhaps they weren’t exactly wrong about their observation.