the plague of the neighborhood

"Hmmm? Oh no. I can't destroy the energy, but it sort of just... Dissipates. I don't know the exact science. Not my forte. But... Don't worry about me." It was almost weird to have any one even remotely concerned. Where he come from, that was unheard of. To have someone peek their head in and question your well-being.

“O-oh…  I guess it’s not that important…” he says.  Having not graduated high school, Tweek doesn’t really get the science behind it, either, so whatever.

Asked if he needs somewhere to rest, Tweek stifles a yawn and shakes his head.  “Oh, no, I couldn’t do that…  I don’t like staying with people…”  At least, not for long.

But this wouldn’t be for long, would it?  Just until the magic wore off, and then Tweek could disappear before he created too many problems for either himself or Alric.

"While you are here, you need only ask. There is precious little, I cannot fetch for you." Sin doubted he would gravitate towards what few items she was forbidden to summon forward.

"Now, my dear, would you like to be left alone to rest before we do anything else? I understand that this can be a rather... dramatic change for you." It was, perhaps, intentional - for more ways than one. If left alone in a place of comfort and warmth, Tweek might loosen his grip on any misgivings of making this deal. When he had been separated from any source of relief for so long, it might blind him to the truth of the moment.

Also, Sin did worry about the boy. Already, she grew a fondness for him. Hopefully, he wouldn't turn out like all of the rest... A traitor to her, abandoning her like all of her children before him.

He sat down on the bed, plucked a slice off the plate, and took a large bite out of it, relishing the sweet and sticky juices that rolled down his chin.  It was the best orange he had ever had, although maybe that was his mind playing tricks on him again.

When she offered to leave him, he stopped, dropped an empty rind on the plate, looked at her, and then into the space between her and the door.  He frowned deeply, his heart thudding against his ribs.  He had never known a strong maternal figure.  What he experienced interacting with his birth mother was only apprehension at best and terror at worst.  She made it very clear that she didn’t want Tweek to love her, which was not the vibe that he got from Sin.

(He really ought to come up with a different name for her.  The reminder of what she was jarred him every time he thought it.)

If only Alric had a coat to spare.

"I'm... hmmm... think of it has suctioning your energy and motivation. It's temporary and the thoughts that turn into panic will still be there, they just won't have anything to act on to upset the body," It was difficult to explain and not the way the ability was typically used, but it almost felt... right to help someone with it nevertheless. Gradually, Alric pulled his hand back, a faint bluish glow left behind on Tweek's forehead before dissipating entirely.

In about an hour, the energy would have built itself back up that the anxiety would properly resume. Until then, Tweek was momentarily free.

So, although he had plenty of free time, he didn’t really ever use it to rest.

“Ah, so it’s like… like…”  Sluggishly, his mind searched for an appropriate comparison.  “…drugs.  The kind th-that make you s-sleep.  Downers.  They might knock you out, but all of your problems are still there when you wake up.”

Tweek liked it this way, really.  He didn’t want to be babied and have his problems solved for him because he was pretty sure that would just make even more trouble for him.  A temporary fix was all he felt safe asking for.

"Ah, so you don't want all of the emotional turmoil of talking to her. I understand..." Calondra considered the options he had, "I suppose you have already considered stressing to her before you say anything that you need her to be calm. That's not even guaranteed to work... How about... do you have any trusted adult who could act like a mediator? A counselor?" Calondra couldn't make any assumptions that he even had one of those. So few kids did.

He hasn’t considered stressing his mom to his mom that he needs her to stay calm, largely because he knows it wouldn’t work. It had not worked with Tweek, either.

There was no implication of Ava being the one in control, she was now. It certainly upsets the specter, but since she realizes now that Ava isn't scared of her as much as she used to be, getting violently angry about it is a mute point. "We had to lay some kind of ground rules, but I am happy she was stupid enough to give me all the tools I needed without intending to." That does earn another too-tight squeeze of her shoulders, those hands inching dangerously close to her neck, but Ava's able to take it in stride.

"Gonna be honest, still don't have a clue what her goal was with that." Khalaas grumbles something about how it was to prove that they weren't to be messed with, to which Ava fully snaps her head over to raise a brow. "You know damn well that if it wasn't for everything that had happened, I wouldn't have agreed. Don't act like it was strategic." The ghost relinquishes her hold of Ava, floating away from the pair of them.

   “I dunno, it just seems more convenient than scattering all her soldiers as ghosts across the whole universe, especially when you guys have spaceships and crazy GPS technology and shit like that.  Forming a suicide pact seems pretty extreme.”

   He shrugs.  “Our government seems to be fucking a lot up lately, but you don’t see me and my friends all killing ourselves about it.”  Maybe because he’s still a little young to feel or register the full effects of it, but still.  He can’t imagine a lot that would drive him to that extreme.

For years, Sin had little to her name. Guardian of the Gate was a fine title, but so few recognized it. No one trace her lineage, no matter how short, back to power or prestige. Instead, the only true bond she had was there were brief moments when her children recognized her as mother. Oddly enough, she quickly was growing fond of Tweek.

With a blink, the world around them shimmered out of sight, replaced at first with a long grim hall before Sin replaced the sight instead with a bedroom. It was of a generous size, but nothing obstentious or grandiose. Most importantly, the cold grays and shadowy blacks were replaced with a warm red brick and candles lining the wall to cast away most of the shadows. It remained dark in general, Hell only allowing a little deviation from that, but Sin was careful to use the dim lighting to indicate coziness and warmth rather than secreta or cruelty. The bed was adorned with a fluffy crimson blanket with more in a nearby chest. The shelves were lined with odd wooden trinkets and books.

   When he righted himself, his jaw dropped at the sight of the room, the most luxurious he had ever stayed in, even before his decision to leave home. The small worldly comforts that his parents could have provided for him, had he stayed with them, were nothing compared to this.

   He moved to the bed and ran his fingers over the blanket, and it felt real. He could never be quite sure how much of his world was illusion, but if this was one of those times when he was just being crazy, he still wouldn’t mind staying in it for a while.

   Anything was a dizzying amount of options as far as food went, and Tweek had always had problems with his appetite. It was rare that anything sounded good to him, and he often forced himself to eat simply to go through the motions of surviving, so he had to think on it for a while absentmindedly pressing down on the plush blanket.

Jon begins to say that he can prove it, to offer to rip the truth from them word by painful word. He is generally against using the Beholding to cause people harm - his boss does that enough - but there are certain cases where he would be more than willing to extract a Statement if it meant someone else wouldn't have to suffer for it.

   He reads over the front of the card with its emerald owl staring wide-eyed back at him.  The Magnus Institute.  Jonathan Sims.  Head Archivist.  The name of the institution could be something related to psychology.  He supposed they were called mental institutions, after all.  But then, why wasn’t Jon’s job title something like psychiatrist or therapist or doctor or something like that?  An archivist sounded like a glorified librarian, so Tweek didn’t know how much of an expert the guy really was about situations like his own.  How would someone who shuffled papers around all day be able to deal with the menace of his parents?

   “You… you do?” he asks, raising his eyes from the card to look at Jon.  In them, for as wary as he is, is something like hope.  He is trying to keep it in check, though, given how weird this situation is in general.

    Heavy on barely. There were a few strings of words in Tweek's scratchy voice that hung around in his head, but nothing that really concerned him. Sleep was a real thing and he got through every night without waking up to noise. That door bang was something else, and it's a miracle that he could even talk during the night.

    With the little sips he took from the cup of coffee, the caffeine hit him harder than he expected, blinking for a moment. and shaking his head. Was it him or the coffee? Jimmy couldn't say for certain, but he decided to hold the coffee between his hands. For now.

    And he wasn't exactly a guy known for words. All he did was listen, occasionally squinting at Tweek out of harsh observations. A stink eye for most teachers, but it's how he gave his "hard reads" according to Gary.

    "Do you spike your coffee or something? This feels like I'm getting a punch to the face and I'm like, three sips in," he asked off-hand, gesturing the cup. "But if all that shmuck you were giving me is about Craig ... ugh ...

    " ... look, half the stuff I do around this school isn't for making or breaking ties. I just don't feel like dealing with idiots. This school is full of idiots and it's so easy to get on people's bad sides over being associated with morons who fight for half-ass reputations and cheap lunches. I'm not here to be some wedge or leashed idiot to fight for people. You think I'd even consider kissing Craig's ass for something that isn't my problem?"

   He didn’t even tell the other preps where he got the drugs for their parties.  They didn’t know they came out of his parents’ stash, and they never asked.

   He almost felt bad for lying when the word, “No,” slipped out of his mouth on impulse.  “It’s—it’s just a strong blend.  My parents m-make it special…  I figured you c-could use it after l-last night…  You might be able to… ngh… get some milk or s-something for it from the cafeteria.”  Why it was such an instinct of his to protect his parents, he didn’t know.  Wouldn’t it benefit him in the end of they got arrested?  But then, if they ever got out of prison…

   He shook his head, trying to stop himself from spiraling about all of that.