AGE PLOT SHENANIGANS

[microbrobotics]

WHO: Everyone and anyone!
WHERE: De Chima, various
WHEN: Around 6 PM EST, March 25th
WHAT: Age plot kickoff!
WARNINGS: Cuteness.

[ LET'S GET THIS PARTY OFFICIALLY STARTED! Opening events so we don't do too much comm flooding (although people are welcome to make their own posts for the event). You're welcome to toplevel with your character if you'd like to have them show up somewhere else for this plot.

Current toplevels:
Spring Festival in a De Chima city park
De Chima #1
De Chima #1, later (Minato)

The age plot will run from March 25th through Sunday, March 29th. More deets available at the plotting post. ]

Comments

[kittenjones]

[ That catches in her throat. He looks into her eyes, and he looks so earnest, and so certain, and...It's stupid, but for a moment she just wants to fling her arms around him and cry. She's so scared, and so unsure of herself right then - and she thinks that it was probably nothing at all that made it happen. Just this stupid pointless thing. Getting aged down. But - Kitty's always relied on her cleverness - her wits and her luck have always acted together to get her out of trouble. They've always worked to help her accomplish things. The thought that her wits are so easy to dislodge -

It scares her so bad. She holds herself together enough that she doesn't grab at him - except for one little gesture, a hand hooked in his coat. And she doesn't cry - except for the tears that well up in her eyes and get blinked back. Neither of those count. Definitely - definitely neither of those count. ]

Yeah.

[ And if her voice sounds shaky...If her voice sounds shaky, then she's sure he'll overlook it. ]

You're right. I'm...

[ A breath. ]

Thanks. Thanks, Mitchell.

[humanistic]

[He reaches out to grip at her hand without thinking, pulling her hand close like this somehow seals the deal. And of course he doesn't say anything about the shakiness of her voice, or any shininess in her eyes--even if he notices, he doesn't say anything.]

Hey, yeah.

[He gives her a smile, encouraging.]

You're going to be all right. Now come on, let's get out of this park. I'll buy you a deep-fried chocolate bar.

[kittenjones]

[ That actually draws a smile from her. Not a laugh, but a smile - a little sad, a little shaky, but it counts. And she says: ]

That sounds completely foul. I definitely want it.

[ She's too caught up in herself right now. If she were a little more aware, she'd remember that she's careful about touching people - that she always is careful to make certain that her power won't be dangerous to them, and she doesn't know whether her power is dangerous to him. They never figured that out. But she's so wrapped up in her problems - so she just shifts her hand, and just tightens her grip on his fingers like they're a lifeline. ]

[humanistic]

[Mitchell smiles at her answer, and starts to respond--make some joke that will get a real laugh out of her, however weak, it'll be a start--

But her fingers grip at him, a momentary squeeze of pressure--and somewhere deep in his chest, Mitchell feels an echo of that pressure, a pulse, like the kind of jolt you get when you touch your fingers against an electric socket. The shadow of it passes across his face, deadens his smile--]

What's--

[--Or so he starts, but the word smears. And for a moment--just a moment, the span of two heartbeats, two real heartbeats, steady and sure--under the grip of Kitty's fingers, his hand goes warm, almost hot, a flush of life.]

[kittenjones]

[ She feels that warmth, but the cause of it doesn't really register. She just sort of looks up at him, puzzled, and puzzled by his expression. He looks...pained? Unhappy? Miserable? She honestly can't tell, and she doesn't understand. So, hesitantly, tentatively, she asks - ]

Mitchell...?

[humanistic]

[He tries to raise his other hand to press against his chest, but the gesture is cut off midway through, a reach that isn't completed. He sucks in a breath--or tries to, at least, but his inhalation is more of a rattle in his dry throat--]

Th--

[Whatever he's going to say, he doesn't even manage to complete the word. Instead, his gaze fixes on the grasp of her fingers, and he tugs backwards, once, sharp, and pulls his hand free.

And all that warmth goes out of him all at once, sucked neatly away, and the tight feeling in his chest lets up in that same instance. With a gasp, Mitchell stares down at his hand, at his fingers that still retain some tingle of warmth to them.]

Jesus.

[kittenjones]

Oh -

[ My power. Kitty goes a little pale as she realizes - the warmth in him, the pain, it'll be because of her. Because she nullifies powers. Including vampirism -

She draws back at once, face going pale. ]

Oh my God - Mitchell - Are you all right?

[humanistic]

Yeah--

[He flexes his fingers, experimentally--and then shakes out his hand, quickly, a single sharp movement, a twist at his wrist. Christ.]

Yeah, yeah, I'm-- [And slowly, it starts to become true, as the whole thing fades altogether. Familiar cold and familiar stillness, and a feeling rather like emerging from beneath the surface of the water--a rush, as everything fills in and filters out all at once. Uncertainly, he laughs.]

I'm fine. [With more strength, he looks up at Kitty, and sees the fear written there. For a moment, as everything in him struggles to readjust, realign--he likes it. The look of fear. It plays on some sense in him, some dark little space.

He shakes that off too. The smile that he gives her is still a little unsure--but it's real.]

Sorry. Yeah. Look, it's all right. No harm done. It was just-- weird, for a moment.

[kittenjones]

[ It doesn't look all right. He still looks like he's been slapped, or nearly electrocuted. Maybe the latter comparison is better - given a short hard shock through his hand, one that kicked life through him again, like one of those paddles they've got at the hospital. God, how awful. How miserable. Did it hurt? She wonders. It must have, right?

But...What, then. Her touch warmed him. Her touch made his heart beat again. There's a stupid part of her that thinks that's enchanting, and that thinks about the fact that - Well. They can touch. She can touch him. That's nice, right?

Stupid being stupid. ]

All right.

[ She swallows past her dry throat. Her arms cross over her chest; her face is uncertain. ]

Sorry. I didn't even...think about that. About my powers. I ought to have done.

[ And then, hesitantly: ]

Should we...get you to a hospital?

[humanistic]

No.

[He refuses the offer, quickly--and then, relaxing, he repeats:]

No. It's all right. Hospital's more of a hassle for me than anything else. Doctors don't like anyone that hasn't got a regular heartbeat. Prejudiced.

[But he glances down at his hand again, on heartbeat, as the memory of that small moment overtakes him again. Without the actual warmth, without the grip of Kitty's hand, and the course of sudden life, he's got no way to frame it. His best comparison is the froth of blood under his teeth, in his throat. It had felt like that, only-- backwards, somehow. A heart's pulse, and the thrum of blood in veins, alive.

He looks up at Kitty again, and drops his hand. His smile this time is slightly stronger.]

It's fine. Really. And don't apologise. Neither of us were thinking--and no harm's been done. There's nothing to be sorry for. And if you apologise again-- [Heading her off, with a quick flash of humour; see how totally fine he is?] --I won't be buying you any deep fried chocolate bars at all.

[kittenjones]

[ A hesitation - and then a little nod, and a hesitant little smile. He looks all right. Right? He looks stronger already. More okay. And so she says: ]

Yeah, all right.

[ And, a little more sure of herself still: ]

I'm taking back that sorry, then. All of them.

[ And then - ]

Was that...unpleasant? Was that bad? How it felt, I mean.

[humanistic]

Yeah, you'd better.

[And he gives her an encouraging nod, first, very serious: yes, definitely take it all back, no second thought on that--but her second question surprises him enough that it gives him a moment of pause. Since when aren't deep fried chocolate bars enough to get someone to forsake a topic?

He doesn't look back down at his hand, but he sort of wants to.]

Uh-- no. Not--really.

[It doesn't sound convincing at all, and Mitchell acknowledges that with a short self-deprecating laugh. He shoves his hands into his pockets, and shrugs.]

It was just-- different. I haven't felt anything like it in-- God. [Better not to emphasize just how old he is, so--] Ages. A really long time. But-- bad? No.