it's such an arbitrary line that we dance

[demonspawn]

WHO: terrance "dysfunctional emo child" ward & YOU.
WHERE: wandering around heropa.
WHEN: afternoon.
WHAT: your choice of various adventures with the failspawn of darkness.
WARNINGS: blinding paleness and guyliner.

( a: out and about )
[ florida does not agree with terrance ward. maybe it's the semi-goth high school culture still ingrained in his young soul, some distant relationship demons have with vampires, or the fact that he's whiter than white bread -- but whatever it is, he imagines he can feel the sunlight working up the first tinglings of a burn on the back of his neck, where the hair is just short enough to leave him exposed. this is what he gets for actually going outside for once. next time, he'll stick to being an anti-social adolescent hermit. or at least spf 50.

but he was starting to get a little claustrophobic back at the house. not that he didn't more or less get along with his roommates -- they'd all been through a lot together -- but between all the animals and all the close proximity, terry found himself needing to put a little space between himself and everyone else.

taking the dog for a walk was a good enough excuse, even if he's starting to regret it a little. the whole look of him probably spells out "awkward" in blaring red lights, this scrawny pale kid with chipped black nail polish being dragged along by a tiny white terrier. a noisy white terrier, apparently, because as they make their way down the sidewalk, the little monster begins barking up a storm, pawing excitedly at the legs of the next person who passes by them. ]


( b: coffee shop )
[ college was terry's attempt at being as normal as possible. not that he volunteered his demonic heritage whenever he met anybody, but still. being able to sense the worst fears of basically anybody within a arm's reach was the kind of weirdness you didn't really get used to with time. at least it had been a good long while since his powers had flipped out on anyone. the shapeshifting bit was never any fun. ever.

he almost has a routine now. there's a coffee shop he likes, a little quaint non-corporate place where he sits in the corner with his laptop and studies. but he's trying not to get too comfortable with it, because normalcy still freaks him out.

it's ironically concentration that causes him to reach blindly for his coffee, eyes still focused on lecture notes as his hand, for all its effort, manages to miss the cup and knock it over -- right onto whoever is unlucky enough to walk by. ]


( c: alleyway )
[ that's one of the hazards of being out in public when you're a literal freak of nature -- you never know what's going to trigger the stupid powers you inherited from your conveniently villainous demon lord of a father. a woman in the nearby grocery store must have been incredibly arachnophobic, because it jarred him the moment she'd seen the little creature, seconds before she'd actually screamed. her panic had throbbed at his temples, making him drop the box of cereal he'd been holding from his hand.

it's been a long time since he's really let himself taste someone else's fear. he'd gotten sloppy and careless, too comfortable with the facade of a regular life to retain tight control over his ability.

he crouches in the alley by the store, back against the wall as he counts his breaths. the heels of his palms are pressed hard against his closed eyes. his skin itches. he looks pale -- like he might be sick. ]

Comments

B!!!

[viced]

[ You could take a man from the City, but there was still going to be the same man at the end of the day. Coffee shops, running himself into the ground, and hobnobbing were the sorts of things that Mitchell Hundred did naturally. Probably familiar for someone who used to actually work in City Hall.

Terry was easy to pick out, if it weren't for his familiar flop of hair, then the laptop speaking to him would be enough. It wasn't until after he had the big paper cup of black coffee that was more like sludge than liquid, did he approach, intending to actually say hi -- up until he had coffee on his ankle. ]

Motherfucker!

[demonspawn]

[ it would be terry's luck that he'd dump his coffee on his former boss. his exasperated exhale sounds suspiciously like the word shit. ]

-- sorry. God, this is really friggin' awkward.

[ it's not a run in with terry ward if there isn't a slight pity party. but at least he's getting up to offer his lucky former boss some napkins for the coffee now conveniently on his ankle.

belatedly, and with some regret over his own existence: ]

Hi, Mitch.

[viced]

[ Mitch struggled, trying to keep his coffee from spilling, which he only just succeeds at, before he takes the napkins with a grateful half-smile, strained and gritting around the pain of a slight burn, before he patted down the coffee stains on both his suit and his hands. ]

Terry. Looks like you've lost your coffee wrangling skills already.

[ It's with a strained statement, mostly a joke, but the look on his face said enough.

He was at least holding back anything too unkind. ]

Holding up alright?

[demonspawn]

[ he knows it's a joke, but the look on his face is just slightly uncomfortable -- mostly because it reminds him that privately, he actually kind of misses working at city hall. it was rough some days, working more or less as april's office slave, but he'd found a routine and people to belong with. college was different. it was foreign in its wide-spread normalcy.

he exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. ]

Yeah. I'm fine. Obviously lacking in my fine motor skills or whatever, but I'm surviving.

[ he eyes mitch, for a moment. ]

Is it weird to say that I still keep wanting to call you "Mayor?"

[viced]

Nah, half the time I think of myself as Mayor still.

[ He was still patting down his suit, it didn't help that he was obviously dressed in the same kinds of clothes that he always did.

Mitch had a way of carrying that same gravitas from the office to everywhere else. ]

I do overdress for a civil engineer too, which doesn't help. [ His smile flashes up, then, now that he's not trying to wipe off burning coffee. ]

Hopefully they don't have you working as a barista. [ The computer says otherwise, but Mitch didn't like telling people as much as he found out through the machines around him. ]

[demonspawn]

[ even being in mitch's presence makes terry feel a little underdressed. it isn't as bad as it was when he was in high school -- back then, a person might even understand why bullies would be tempted to dunk his head in a toilet -- but there's still the half-scraped off sharpie on his nails, slightly ragged black jeans, sneakers with the laces already dirty. he hasn't completely outgrown the sense of style that his younger, tortured teen persona had adopted.

but he has grown a little. college is a bit step. ]

Yeah, right. I think I'd probably commit suicide by frappuccino two days in. Customer service is so not my deal. [ theoretically, an unpleasant experience for all. still, he feels self-conscious about the truth, pausing before he clears his throat lightly and goes on with purposeful nonchalance: ] Actually, I'm going to school now. College, or whatever normal kids my age are supposed to do.

[ normal. right. ]

[viced]

College, really? [ The tone in his voice is half proud, really. Mitchell was the kind of person that liked to see the people he worked with flourished -- at least for the most part. If it was a tossup between his career and theirs, he would always pick his.

But Terry? The kid could go far, if he did it right. ]

What're you studying? [ He didn't even notice his state of dress, but Mitch generally tried not to. He used to wear leather, after all. He had no place to talk. ] Is it here in Heropa?

[demonspawn]

[ he's not really sure what to do with that hint of something like pride in mitch's voice. after a moment, he writes it off as his imagination or wishful thinking, the way he sometimes does when bradbury sounds the same way. ]

It's in Cape Canaveral. I'm majoring in psychology. [ he answers dryly. there's irony there, he knows it. ] I guess it's cheating that I'm a telepath, but whatever. It's not like the university has rules against superpowers.

[viced]

If you're up front about it, what's the problem? Maybe some people need the push of someone knowing exactly what they're going through, in order to get their lives back on track.

[ He shifted, not with impatience, but instead with ease, making sure to slide out of the way if someone walked too close, making sure the integrity of his coffee was intact, before he finally took a long drink of it. ]

When I was...shit, I don't know, right before college, I wanted to do art, you know that? [ Comic Books. ] But honestly, I ended up doing architecture, and I can't say I didn't find my calling. Sometimes going to college has a way of working itself out.

c; lmk if this is okay! *3*

[waiting]

[ their living arrangements aren't too different from what they were before, just with more people and pets factored in. that means grocery runs are more common than they used to be, too. bradbury's usually comfortable getting terry to go pick up the little things they run out of during the week while he gets ready to make dinner (because he certainly doesn't expect anyone else to voluntarily do the foraging for them).

it normally doesn't take terry this long to pick up a few packets of pasta or whatever they're running low on this week, though -- and it's even more unusual for him not to respond to a text message. after a quick frown at the clock, bradbury strips his apron off and steps out, moving at a brisk clip, glad the grocery store isn't that far away. it's by chance that he glances into the alley before actually moving to look for terry inside, and the moment he spots him, his expression's all concern and worry. ]

Terry? [ his voice is soft enough, but the closed-in walls make it echo louder than it should. ]

perf tbh

[demonspawn]

[ the sound of his name echoing off the alley walls penetrates the haze of his throbbing headache, making him jerk his head up towards the noise. he stares at rick, irises rimmed in red, without recognizing him for the beat of a few long seconds. the silence stretches out before he seems to regain some sense of himself through the buzzing in his head, and he forces an unsteady exhale, not realizing that he'd been holding his breath. ]

Don't come any closer. [ his voice is quiet, being there's something else to it -- something tense, and at the same time, something dark, another layer over his words. ] Don't touch me.

[waiting]

[ Hearing Terry sound like that makes a spike of fear shoot through Bradbury -- not because of him, but for him. He doesn't know what's put Terry into this state, and truth be told, he only cares about that to the extent that it can help him figure out how to calm Terry down, now.

he's swift to crush the emotion down, though, knowing it's more emotional noise that Terry doesn't really need. he doesn't exactly listen, at least not to part of the words, because he's still stepping forward, slowly, though he doesn't attempt to reach out yet.

it feels important, to be here. it feels even more important -- even as a part of him acknowledges it as foolish sentimentality -- not to look away. ]

All right. [ he exhales, sharp, unable to help the urge to reach out and hold terry tight -- but that probably wouldn't be appreciated right about now, so he keeps his hands to himself. he could just as easily turn terry's powers off, though -- but is that what he wants? ]

I'm not going to touch you, but I'm not going anywhere, either.

[demonspawn]

[ he feels that brief surge of fear -- it's confused and unfocused, something involving him, but different than a fear of him. that kind of fear, he's tasted a hundred times. still, it's hard to dwell on it with the way his temples ache. he tries to keep his attention on the sound of bradbury's voice, something more real what the festering whispers in the back of his head. ]

You're being stupid.

[ his own voice is an uncomfortable, strained mutter. nobody should be around him right now. (but he doesn't want to be alone with himself. with the demon.) he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself back into control, trying to stay back from the precarious edge. ]

Do you want me to turn on you?

[waiting]

[ bradbury keeps talking, maybe because he recognizes the effect it has on terry, or more likely because he doesn't know what else to do. ]

You know I can take you if you do. [ it's not some blind platitude about how he doesn't think terry will turn, but he knows his voice gives him away, that he's big really bracing for an attack like he maybe ought to. he's not completely idiotic, though -- it might not even be intentional on terry's part, but he knows him well enough to guess he'd blame himself for it anyway.

the best comfort he can offer is to remind terry that bradbury's tougher than he looks, and he's not above defending himself. ]

You wanna tell me what happened?

[demonspawn]

[ what did happen? he's trying to remember now. it wasn't something big -- not like a crowd of panicking, screaming people. but it's been so long since his powers have flared, so long since he's let himself feed...

maybe this is what he gets for pretending to be normal. he let his guard down. ]

No. [ it's hard to say what he's protesting to, but he doesn't give anyone much of a chance to ask for clarification. instead, he's trying to get to his feet, even though his thin shoulders heave with the effort of his unsteady breathing. his instinct says to let loose, to just let it happen, to give in -- ] Just go, would you, Rick? Jesus. Just... Get away f̴̛͘r͏͠ò͠m͜ ̧̀me.

[waiting]

No. [ the firm refusal, an echo of terry's own words, has all the weight of bradbury's conviction behind it, fierce and stubborn affection that says it won't be moved, whatever happens. bradbury's been hurt before, been pushed away before, and while that's shaken him up in all kinds of ways, that's just the risk that comes with caring about people.

he's never known when to stop caring, honestly. ]

Come on, Terry. I know you. [ and you know me. he keeps his voice as steady and sure as he can, and if he focuses enough on projecting the appearance of calm, he can actually start to feel it. he takes another careful step forward, holding his arms out to terry this time, like he's inviting him to step into his grasp, or hold his hands. ]

It's gonna be fine. [ and then, after a touch of hesitation: ] I can help, if you'll let me.

[demonspawn]

[ it's the one thing that really scares him. despite everything that he's seen -- all the horrible, awful things that people hide in the dark corners of their minds, the monsters that keep them awake at night -- what scares terry ward is the idea of hurting someone he cares about again. he thinks about his mother all the time. the memory of what he did to her still handicaps him now, forcing him to keep everyone at arm's length -- especially at a time like this.

the whispering is loud in the back of his head. it would be so easy to surrender. his powers have been so starved.

then it's rick's voice again, making him open his eyes, making him look up and hear the words being said to him. i can help.

terry exhales, pale and shaky, trembling with the effort of controlling himself as he slowly reaches for bradbury. ]

c: bc that's a real cute face

[fishbreath]

[ She isn't out for anything in particular. To feel the sun, to stretch her legs, to breathe... well, not fresh air, because this city doesn't necessary have much of that. But to breathe air in general, at least. The stares she garners she could do without, but she's getting good at ignoring those. All it takes is staring carefully at where people aren't, looking more at scenery and surroundings than the people populating it.

So it is that her gaze sweeps down Terry's alley, and the sheer oddity of his pose draws her attention. She pauses, blinks, and tentatively starts toward him. Claws click quietly against the asphalt as she nears, and she does a hesitant little clear of her throat. ]

Ah... are you well?

[ A soft voice, and gently accented with something that sounds almost Spanish. ]

a butt made it for meee

[demonspawn]

[ normally, he might notice a strange, alien-looking woman approaching him -- but terry is a bit occupied at the moment. there's the throbbing headache painfully pulsing at his temples and the disgusting thought vomit that fills his mind as he tries to will himself to just breathe, already, because it's gonna be fine, he's fine, and --

her voice makes him go still when it pierces the dark haze inside his head.

his shoulders visibly tense in the long moment before he finally lifts his head to look at her, unsure what to make of her. it registers that she must be an import, with the way that she looks, but his brain is too distracted for solid, coherent ideas much beyond that.

instead, sharply: ]

Go. Away.

[fishbreath]

[ She pauses at that... rather unmistakable command. It goes against everything to ignore something like that; it would be most polite just to turn about and leave. But... he really doesn't look like he's doing very well.

She takes a step nearer, tensed and ready to be yelled at. ]

I would like to help.

[demonspawn]

[ there's a swell of frustration under the uncomfortable haze of his headache when the woman steps closer instead of farther away. if he'd felt a little better, there might have been sass along the lines of asking if she had a hearing problem. as it stands, he figures if she won't go, then he will.

he won't let this happen here. ]

You can't help. [ he bites the words out between gritted teeth as he forces himself to wobble unsteadily to his feet. he looks unnaturally pale, even for him. ] I'm telling you. Back off, or I'll probably hurt you. And -- [ ugh ] -- nobody wants that.

[fishbreath]

[ She'd love to argue that point, but she's not really sure how to help a human who's suffering... she's not even sure what he's suffering. Still, though, she can't just leave. Awkwardly hovering hands drop to her waist and full free a small canteen of fresh water, but she doesn't quite yet hold it out. ]

I have water. I think, maybe, you should drink.

[ water helps everything right?? right. That part about getting hurt goes thoroughly ignored, as she has trouble imagining a human could hurt her. ]

[demonspawn]

[ he knows she's trying to help. he knows she means well. whatever he's feeling right now isn't because of her -- and he has to remind himself that, before his frustration gets out of hand. aggressive emotions are the last thing he needs. he forces himself to keep his mouth shut instead of replying with something rude. he needs all his focus to keep his powers under his skin anyway.

glancing at her, his eyes flicker from the canteen to her face and back again. finally, he reaches for it, careful not to actually touch her. that always makes it worse.

it's strained and a little annoyed when, after a beat, he speaks again: ]

Do you... Always try to help people like this?

[fishbreath]

[ She surrenders it easily, and is just as careful not to make skin contact. ]

No... but I do not very often see people... as you are, either.

[ She feels bad for forcing assistance, but she'd feel worse for leaving him. So deal with it, Terry. ]

[demonspawn]

[ drinking the water at least gives him an excuse to not answer her right away. everything, including talking, seems to take extra effort away from just keeping his powers bundled up inside of him. it feels like his skin and bones will start stretching out at any second now -- and he can't be sure how much of that is in his head or real, some manifestation of his abilities.

the water does help though. it's cool and soothing as he swallows.

finally, in a mutter: ]

Yeah, I'm a real special freak of nature.