[PRP] It's You (Pachua/Brenley)

[Smerdle]

He almost had it. Bren had been experimenting on and off with one particular enchantment for months now, but his efforts had doubled in the weeks since he'd returned home. He just needed more mushrooms, which was why he was scrounging around near the monster dorms on this sunny Tombsday. While he certainly would have benefited from Screech's help, the dromaiusaurus was still nowhere to be found. He supposed there was always the pygmy wish, but he didn't trust that fuzzy little creeper to be in the same room with him, let alone with anything as important as one of his projects.

All things considered, the boil had been fairly lucky this morning. The pouch at his hip contained quite a number of intact fungi, and he had just spotted another bunch. Brenley ducked his head, all of his attention on harvesting the things without harming them.

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Pachua recognized the boil who was 'playing' with mushrooms just outside the dorms. The last he clearly remembered of the young man was a dark and eerie room... They'd gone to explore among other things, trying to find a way out. It looked like the other Boil had made it, and it made him glad.

He had no idea if he might upset Bren by appearing before him, the reminder of that place couldn't be made 'pleasant' even with a stretch. But he still moved forward and called softly when it looked safe to do so.

"hey.... Do you need a hand?" He offered a small smile with the offer and a little wave.

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He hadn't had all that much time with Pachua in the grand scheme of things, and most of it had been spent staring at the monster's corpse, so it was understandable that Brenley didn't immediately recognize his voice. He would have turned down help on any other day, but right now he just wanted to gather as many mushrooms as he could so he could retreat to his room that much sooner.

"I could do with a few more of these, actually, if you really mean to help. Just—"

While he didn't recall Pachua's voice, Brenley had no problem remembering what the boil looked like. His already pale skin lightened another shade as he looked up, eyes wide and unblinking. "I'm..."

How could Pachua smile? How could he even stand to approach without taking the opportunity to exact revenge? Bren tried to push himself to his feet, to get away, but he stumbled instead, realizing too late that he had stopped breathing long enough to grow lightheaded. Mushrooms forgotten, the reaper took a step back, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his dry throat. He still didn't blink.

"You're all right. I'm... um... glad."

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Pachua tilted his head curious, ruffling his feathers lightly. It seemed rather strange that Bren seemed so shaken, he didn’t recall doing anything to the boil, he remembered…
He pushed the thought away.

“You don’t… you don’t look alright.” He said sounding sympathetic. He stooped and plucked a few of the mushrooms and offered them to Bren.

“… I didn’t hurt you did I? I mean…. I don’t remember doing it… if I did I’m… I didn’t mean to.”

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"No!" The force of Brenley's reply was unexpected, even to him, and he was immediately embarrassed by it. He held up his hands, his fingers spread as if he meant to push Pachua away, but they collapsed as soon as he saw them, relaxing and bending into more friendly shapes. The boil didn't remember. Bren felt lighter, less troubled, and for a moment he even smiled, the corners of his mouth rising almost imperceptibly. His relief didn't last.

"N... no. You didn't do anything to me, I promise." He reached for the mushrooms Pachua had offered him, storing them safely with the others. Left with nothing to do, his hands tapped at his wide supply belt, then folded behind him.

"I hurt you though." Bren swallowed, recalling the blood and the destruction, but still not the act itself. He had been told that none of them would regenerate, that the patches were all too far away, but he had killed him anyway to save his own life. He knew if he was given the opportunity, he'd do it again. "And I'm sorry for it." The words came easily, but he still had trouble believing he meant them.

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Pachua reached up and ran fingers over the curve of his neck where the needle had plunged in between the tiny scales, worrying his lower lip with his teeth as his eyes drifted to one side like he was seeing something that wasn’t there any longer before he nodded.

“… I remember the needle.” He said softly. “…That’s all from you.” He folded his arms over his chest defensive, curling the wings down over his shoulders.

“…Do you mind if I ask why?”

He himself had received no offers, only the warning from the gas-mask bedecked minipet, seen their fellow student impaled twice over and that she had subsequently failed to dissipate.

“…Did you at least make it back to the school?”


He didn't seem -mad- though, or out for revenge.

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"That's all there was," Brenley said, his voice barely audible. "All you could have remembered, given... well..." He almost left it at that, reluctant to relive the carnage while he was awake that he had so many times while he slept. But Pachua was directly asking why. And the reaper found himself wanting to tell him, despite the pain it might cause. Perhaps even because of it.

Bren stood taller, clearing his throat before he spoke. "The Fracs approached me. It said I could leave if I killed someone." It seemed so trite now, an offer no sane person would accept due to its immediate and obvious consequences, but he had been frightened and susceptible and desperately unwilling to die. He had so much left to do before he faded away completely, he just knew it. He simply hadn't discovered exactly what it all was yet.

"I was determined to leave, even after I saw that ghoul impaled. We can't die. It's not possible. The Fracs gave me a needle and... you were the next person I saw. It wasn't fair and I wasn't thinking." He swallowed. "If it's any consolation, no, I did not make it back consciously. I drowned on my way to get... help. I'm not a very skilled swimmer." Brenley looked down at his hands as he threaded his fingers together.

"If I had it to do again..." He finally stopped speaking, if only because he was wary of what he might say if he continued.

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Pachua watched him with a strange expression; there was something like… resignation in his face. Like something about the world just fell into a familiar pattern, like a dance so familiar that you could do it without thought. He was quiet for a long time, several breaths at least and his eyes stayed on Bren’s face for the whole of it before he adjusted his posture slightly, something like pride, but his face held more resignation and duty.

He swallowed, clearing his throat as his hand toyed for a moment with some of the beads around his neck before it dropped again.

“… You might have asked.” He said softly. “Next time… ask. I’m a white Quetzalcoatl, and I don’t expect you to know what that means to my clan, but you should know that… you could have asked, and if I thought it would have gotten you out safely, I’d have let you.”

His eyes dropped again to the ground, the mushrooms, and Bren’s boots.

“I’m very glad we all seem to have come back. That we weren’t too weak or drained of fear, I think that would have made it worse for anyone who did… what they had to do.”

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A white Quetzacoatl. Brenley was quick to admit to himself that he'd never heard of such a thing, but that didn't bother him. He had never heard of a great many things. His lack of knowledge only served to heighten his curiosity.

"You'd have let me kill you?" he said incredulously, his voice dropping off to a whisper at the end of his query, as if he was afraid there were people listening in the bushes. Bren very nearly let out a hysterical chuckle, his disbelief briefly overwhelming him. He pressed his lips together and fidgeted instead, settling his hands behind his back so no one would see them worrying against each other.

"I...I must say I don't understand. At all. But I'm grateful?" He truly was. Brenley was very relieved they'd made it back. As many times as he'd tried to convince himself that some fracs in a gas mask didn't possess the means to truly kill them, doubt wormed its way into his subconscious at every turn, much like the vision of Pachua's corpse. He tried to fill his mind instead with thoughts of the boil standing there now, very much alive.

"I'm not sure I had to do anything though. That's the problem. I'm sorry. Again."

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“…Not…” he started to explain and rubbed at his arm. “Not… just KILL me, I’d have let you do it so you could be FREE.” He said with a firm emphasis on the last word. “I don’t think a lot of people ever realize how much it means to be free. Since we can’t know for sure if we did, or we didn’t HAVE to do that, then at least… at least I was in a position to understand. We don’t know if HE was behind it all, but he did say he was disappointed by the last…batch. I…just, we had no way of knowing he’d have let us out if things hadn’t happened the way they did. He called it a social experiment. Maybe… maybe he’s even still watching, because I know I never saw him coming.”

“…anyhow stop, stop saying sorry, it won’t change anything alright? All we can do is move forward alright?”

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"Yes. Okay." Moving forward was something he was aware he should have been doing ever since he'd regained consciousness, but actually turning that impulse into a series of actions was proving difficult. And what was he meant to do now, standing here awkwardly with the boil he'd killed? He couldn't walk away, and he didn't want to continue chatting about their shared experience when he was supposed to be getting past it. Besides, the mention of Parker spying on them made his stomach turn.

"So. What have you been doing since you... got back?" He recalled seeing Pachua around before their trip to the fun house, but he couldn't remember where or in what context anymore. He wondered if he'd ever known.

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finallyyyyyyyy /falls into a ditch

 

[endejester]

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“…Which time?” He said pushing a small smile onto his face, it was still a trifle forced, but he too was trying. It wasn’t like anything that had happened was wholly unexpected in the way he viewed the world.

“…Since after the… thing, mostly just… trying to keep practicing flying, I’m kind of terrible for a creature born with wings.” He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I haven’t seen most of the others, I don’t know if any of us would…want to talk about it anyhow.” He rolled his shoulders in a small shrug.

“What about you, besides um… Mushrooms.”  

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"No, I don't think they would." He had pondered some sort of Parker Freeman support group before, but so many of the ones who had been taken 1) thought he was a liar, 2) didn't like him outright, or 3) both, that he didn't think it would be in his best interest to participate in such a gathering anyway. "Maybe someday when it's not so fresh." Bren thought that was a pretty amiable response, all things considered.

"I spent a lot of time asleep, actually. Drowning didn't agree with me, I'm afraid." He smirked a thoroughly self-deprecating smirk. "I was ill for a while, and I had a dream that I don't think was actually a dream. Drinking from pools and... giant horsemen. I fought a hunter too. That went about as well as could be expected." He shrugged, suddenly preoccupied with his boots.

After a brief silence, the reaper dragged his gaze off of the ground and peered curiously at Pachua's wings. "My father has wings. I... obviously... do not." He chuckled softly. "I imagine flying is quite difficult." He wondered if there was a way he might imbue the monster with some sort of temporary hover charm, a form of training wings.

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