[DRP] Annabel Lee (Horace + others)

[The Semblance of Unity]

BROMANCE

"I... wasn't on the training field. Or anywhere near it." He didn't elaborate, but ran his thumb carefully along the spine of the notebook. Notebooks, shorthand, if he had them, maybe he could... "It feels different, you know, when your shield fails outside the wards." His own mortality made him feel alive - did he have Jan to thank for that?

Horace smiled slightly at Dylon. It wouldn't do to worry others. "Friends are always welcome." He set the notebook back down. "Do you think you could do me a favor?"

bitiface

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Late

As usual with Joy, her noise preceded her. It was comforting in a way. By the time she'd made her way to his little curtained off area, he was sitting up and had set his book down. "Hey, Joy," he said, a distinct thread of exhaustion running through his voice. "-if I were dead would I be in the infirmary, silly?"

huni pi

 

[Bittiface]

The Semblance of Unity

BROMANCE

Dylon frowned. Horace would have discussed it further by now, right? What had happened to him? It wasn't a mission or spar. It was an attack, right? A blatant attack. "Should I worry about you, man? Who did this?" He wanted to protect him. Horace was his best buddy on Deus, and he needed to protect him.

He nodded at his question. "Sure, anything. What's the favour? Need hot wings? Hot girls?" He couldn't help but tease and joke, a cheeky smile spreading over his face.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

Pick-me-up

Almost mechanically, he reached out and wrapped a hand around the warm thermos. He brought his left hand up to curl around it as well, before abruptly dropping that hand. "Thanks, Jordan." His voice was nearly monotone. The heat from the thermos made him feel better. "Dunno how long. I guess it doesn't really matter. There's somewhere I wanna go, but.." Slowly, he one-handedly snapped open the thermos' lip before taking a small sip.

"Every time I try to read my chart, some nurse wanders by to manhandle me back into the bed." He would've shrugged, but that took more effort than he felt like giving and likely would've hurt.

prolixity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

BROMANCE

Horace looked blankly at Dylon before he schooled his face into something more normal: a slight smile, a shake of his head. "I... I'll be fine. No need to worry. It was my fault, anyway." Horace was pleased that his voice barely wavered on the word 'fault'. He didn't mention who'd done it to him. Telling Dr. Morris had felt clinical, an impartial observer. Telling Dylon felt like burdening him.

"I just.. wanted my notebooks. To keep my hands... hand busy. They're on my desk. If you would get them I'd owe you."

bittiface

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Grey Dragon

Jello or Candy?

The faint smiled faded at Oliver's mumbled words. That hurt, too, though he didn't have a right to that pain. Horace was afraid, too, afraid to leave the infirmary, to find out what happened to Jan, to talk to him. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. Everyone said Jan was a monster, but what did that make Horace - who somehow still loved him?

"You're a good friend, Oliver," he said slowly, and took a jello cup at random. "Thanks for coming even if you didn't really have business here."

grey dragon

 

[Grey Dragon]

Jello or Candy?

In an instant, a plastic-wrapped spoon and napkin set had appeared in his hand, and he held it out. Whether Horace was actually going to eat, or merely pretend to be interested, the act would require utensils.

"It's nice to, um, return the favour," Oliver replied with a hesitant smile. Had Horace seen through his terrible lie? Probably. Either way, they were both on the same page now, and when Oliver's pale eyes glanced up from his fidgeting hands it was some clue about that emotional agony he was looking for.

After a minute of standing awkwardly at the bedside, Oliver took a seat in the nearby chair. Even that was tentative, sitting on the very edge as though waiting for permission to settle. "Um... did anyone say how long you would be in recovery here?" His unspoken question, would the damage to his spirit be repairable during his stay?

The Semblance of Unity

 

[Huni Pi]

Late

By the time she'd arrive in the infirmary, Joy had worked herself into a conniption. It was some measure of relief to find that her worst fears (full body cast, the runic-version of life support the only thing keeping him alive, a priest waiting in the wings to make a final prayer) were grossly exaggerated. But it didn't necessarily mean Horace was alright. He just wasn't as bad as she was expecting.

"I wouldn't know!" she declared, holding her hands up as well as the fruit cups she'd snagged from the kitchen. "Some dude said you were at Death's door now that I think about it he may have meant your division." She pursed her lips before she grabbed one of the nearby stools and settled beside his bed, "But seriously, the ******** happened?"

Tact? Subtle wheedling? Yes, Joy knew of them the way one knew of far distant lands, vague ideas of what they were but no concrete first-hand experience.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[Bittiface]

The Semblance of Unity

BROMANCE

Dylon smelled something fishy. However, one thing was clear; this was not his business to snoop in. Horace wouldn't tell, and Dylon couldn't force it from him. Not yet, anyway. "I really doubt anything to this extent was your fault. Unless you killed someone's mother.... you.. didn't did you?" After all maybe Horace wasn't who he thought he was.

His gaze fell on Horace's hands. Something was wrong here. So very wrong.

"I can get them, sure. You wouldn't owe me anything." He smiled, still worried. "I'll get them now, if you'd like. Just.." He chuckled at himself, rubbing his neck nervously. "Honestly, I just want you to be okay. You don't have to tell me what happened... but please don't put yourself in harms way if you can help it. I'd be really sad if you were hurt again."

Or gone entirely.  

[The Semblance of Unity]

SCREECH

He raised his head briefly to look at her before his lips twisted and Horace ducked down again. Everything was easier if he didn't have to look at anyone. "It's not t-terrible if it's true, is it Hattie?" Slowly, haltingly, he began to tell her most of what happened. Jan wanted to show him what it was like to be the ficus, how he'd over-reached, how it was a whole note because was only a simple melody; he couldn't be the full music, couldn't be enough for anything after all. And all of it interspersed with how it was his fault, it was what he deserved, it was what he got. Because Jan had said it, because America had said it, because everyone thought it. Because it was true.

Horace talked over any noises she might've made, spilling out a disjointed story, fingers on his good hand tightening around her arm. Probably only half of it made sense, but when he had wound down, he looked at her, full in the eyes. "H-hattie, what if... even a-after.." What if I still love him? "What kind of person does that make me?"

enoh love

 

[Enoh Love]

SCREECH

"I don't believe that for a second." Hattie frowned, lifting a hand to wipe her eyes before clinging to him once more, as her adopted little brother began to speak.

Horace tried to tell her the story, and while a lot of it was a garbled mess she began to fit the pieces together. What she discovered was a disgusting narrative, filled with negative characters that seemed to exist only to bring down what was once a kind, loving hero. If she had hurt for him before, she was now in agony at the unfairness of it all.

Harley couldn't imagine how blind sided he must have felt by the whole thing.

"You didn't deserve this, Horace. You didn't. And those people who said you did? They don't know what they're talking about. They're cruel and terrible people, and what they said about you is not true." She assured him, her voice hardening around the edges. "It's not true." She repeated, pressing another kiss to his forehead, a lingering one. "It's not true." She said again, as if third time was the charm that would fix it all, coupled with a second kiss in the hopes that the gesture would wash away the horror he had endured. All the while she held him tight, not willing to let him go and handle this all on his own.

"You're not a bad person, Horace." She told him, unable to piece together what he had meant when he trailed off. He was looking at her now, his eyes holding hers, making her unable to look away. "It makes you human. You were in love. Love is blind...but you have to understand that he's a bad person, right? That he's bad for you? People who actually love you don't hurt you like this." She did not gesture to his wounds; she was certain he would understand what she meant.

"L-Listen...You just woke up from something horrible. It'll take a little bit to adjust." She felt so awkward; this kind of talk wasn't her forte. This was the complete opposite of the things she was capable of dealing with, but she was trying. She gave him a squeeze, and nuzzled her face against his. "But I'll be here for you, okay? I love you lots, and I just want to see you get better."

the semblance of unity

 

[prolixity]

Pick-me-up

Jordan's eyes flickered to the bandaged hand, the missing finger, lingered curiously for a moment, then slid away again. "Might be here a few days," Jordan said, businesslike, keeping pity out of his tone. "Major injuries take a little longer. You'll be up sooner if you rest and let Dr. Jannissari work. I can check your chart, if you don't mind that."

He was nosy, certainly, but also steering carefully clear of asking; Horace would tell him if he felt like it, and from the general sense he'd gotten of Horace in their previous interactions, Jordan suspected that prying would likely be the fastest way to get entirely shut out.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Things we say

Horace saw the movement from the curtain through slitted eyes. He did not try to sleep so much - he did not like his dreams. They ended in terrible finalities and sheets twisted high around his neck. The sheets were never as cold as the chain had been. Even Jan's hand, Horace's body heat, neither had been enough to warm it and sometimes he felt it now, still eating into his shield, each link shearing pieces of himself away. Horace thought, for small seconds, about pretending to be asleep - she had come very late after all.

But what was the point of that anyway? He was too tired to pretend more than she would make him. If Peyton wanted, he could play the part of outraged young man, curse the heavens, curse Jan, not be confused. He could play the part because he was too tired to field her reactions otherwise. Slowly, Horace raised his head.

"Hello, halfpint."

beejoux