Childhood's End

[incipit]

WHO: De-aged Dick Gansey III, and you!
WHERE: De Chima
WHEN: During the Pull Point Plot
WHAT: Gansey is de-aged to his ten year old self.
WARNINGS: Anxiety and panic attacks, intense PTSD, fear of insects and death. Also, precocious ten year old child. You have been warned.

A - March 27th: Locked to Raven House

[ It's late in the evening when Gansey vanishes. He'd been in the living room, with his De Chima journal in front of him, working through his maps. He'd been near silent, lost in what he was doing. Then his pen drops, clicking onto the floor and rolling to a stop, because the hand that had been holding it is gone.

A few seconds later, there's a piercing scream from Gansey's room. It's really a balcony more than a room, and the scream - high-pitched, childlike - can be heard throughout the house. Ten year old Dick Gansey has woken up in bed, in clothes that are unfamiliar and far too big for him. They're not the cause of the screaming; he hasn't even noticed them yet. Instead he's clawing at his hair and face, as though he's trying to peel something off his skin. He's not able to hear outside voices, isn't exactly aware of how much is wrong, and it goes on like this for several minutes. Then it seems to die, and Dick comes back to himself in stages. He's breathing hard, and his hands are trembling, but the panic seems to be fading.

Confusion takes its place. He stumbles out of bed, tripping at once on chinos that are double the length he needs. He's dwarfed in his older self's clothes, and even his glasses are too big for his face. New fear threatens; he looks around him recognizing nothing. ]

Mom? Dad? [ These calls start out quiet and get louder, and he's running through the house searching for them. ] Helen! Where are you! Someone help me!

B - 28th March: De Chima; OTA

[ Dick does not know this place. He's sure he doesn't know this place. He walks down De Chima's main street, trying to settle the uneasiness he feels. Because something about it is familiar, or he thinks it is. It's like he's seen it in a dream.

The thought makes him almost sick. First voices in his head, and now this. Is he hallucinating? Is he sick, is it some kind of leftover from what happened to him? He really doesn't understand, and he needs to. He's desperate to. So he walks, unescorted. He's ten years old, and should most likely be in some kind of school right now, but Dick knows that his school isn't here. He can't get help there.

But he finds himself outside a library and wanders in. He can be found, hours later, searching through stacks of history books, which he brings to pile up on a study table. If he happens to come across you, he'll ask for help. ]

Hi. I can't find the section on ley lines? [ He says this as if it's an everyday thing that is generally sought out in public libraries. ] Have you seen it? I got world history, but I don't know where to start with that.

C - 29th - 30th March: De Chima; various locations, OTA

[ For the next few days, Dick explores. The longer he's in De Chima, the more curious he seems. The park draws him, although he stays away from both flower beds and trees. When he first enters it, he stares at both for a while, like he's trying to push himself towards them. Then, looking unhappy, he pulls away instead and goes to sit on a park bench. He's holding two journals that his apparent older self had been been writing in, and he opens them across his lap. One is very full, and packed with information on Glendower. It's stuffed with so much that it threatens to spill everywhere as soon as it's opened. The other has had much less work, and it concerns De Chima, and the other Porter cities. Dick's trying to get his head around them, but it's a lot. He's intimidated by his own work. How had he ever done all of this, and how is he supposed to remember it all? He pushes overly large glasses up on his nose and taps his thumb against his lip. Hours pass like this.

Then there's the times when he explores around the porter building, fascinated by the way people move back and forth. He's about to try it, but as he moves forward, something seems to brush past his ear. It buzzes harmlessly - just a fly, nothing that's dangerous to him. But the reaction is instant, and suddenly there's a crowd gathering around a screaming, horrified ten year old. Dick is on his knees on the pavement, hands over his ears, eyes squeezed shut, and he's in a world of his own. It had only been weeks ago. He feels blackness threatening, and he knows, he knows, that this time he will die. He keeps screaming for help, but it feels like his throat is closing over. He doesn't know it isn't real.

Then, finally, there's the garage. He's aware that Adam works here, and he's lonely. He picks his way between cars and tools, quietly fascinated by all of them. Like the city, there's something about this that's familiar - something that feels like a dream. But Dick knows he's never been in a place like this before. He explores like he'd explored the library, fascinated by all he finds. ]

D - Create your own!

[ If you have a scenario in mind, prompt me! ]

Comments

[dreamkid]

[ Matthew is very easy-going about a lot of things, and unlikely to tell Gansey 'no' about anything. ]

Yeah, definitely, if you want to.

[ The door to the joint is propped open when they reach it, the heat from the deck oven and the delicious smell of fresh-baked pizza hitting them even before they're properly inside. It's a tiny, narrow little place, the ovens stacked on one another close behind the counter where another customer is already placing an order. A second, flour-dusted employee is rapidly pulling a piping hot pizza from the oven--deep dish.

After a minute it's their turn and Matthew steps up, leaning his elbows on the counter. If Gansey wants to order his own, Matthew will let him; otherwise he will ask for the deep-dish sausage and avocado pizza himself, and two of the cannoli, before holding out his wrist for the employee to scan his tattoo. ]

Thanks, [ he tells the employee with a smile, handing a napkin-wrapped cannolo to Gansey and turning back to the door. They'll wait at their table for the pizza to be ready. ]

[incipit]

[ Dick immediately picks an outside table, looking delighted at the opportunity. When the waitress comes, though, he lets Matthew order. He’d always have to wait for his mom or dad to do that at home, and deferring to the adult feels natural. He brightens even more at the order, though. It’s exactly what he wanted. All he orders for himself is a glass of milk, and then he checks whether this fine establishment has pages to color, for kids. One is brought, with a little cupful of crayons, and Dick picks out the brightest shade of orange for the car.

His own tattoo, meanwhile, has been carefully hidden. Only when the waitress is gone again does he lean forward to question Matthew. ]

How come you showed it to her? Won’t she be mad that we’re imports? I always hear them talking about it.

[ ’Always’, like he’s been listening to the gossip of De Chima for an age. ]

[dreamkid]

[ Matthew kind of wants crayons, too, but he's not going to ask for them. (He's the "adult", after all.) Instead he watches Gansey color as he brings the orange car to life. ]

She won't be mad.

[ The way he addresses the boy is not patronizing, because he's ten but he's still Gansey and Matthew remembers him that way, too. Ronan's best friend, gracious and responsible, proud owner of the real version of the car he's currently coloring.

Matthew doesn't overthink it, just talks to him like a person, letting the conversation go wherever it goes. ]

Some people here really like imports. There are even import blogs about us, and magazines, and stuff like that.

[ For his own part, he's never paid much attention to the suspicious whispers from the others. ]

And I think it's the only way to pay for stuff here. The tattoos. I had to set up a bank account and they scanned it then, too.

[ The bank account is a bit weird to mention though, because Gansey is (most likely) the one who helped him with that. ]

[incipit]

They did?

[ Dick seems unsure, but he pushes back the (huge, adult) watch on his wrist to check his own tattoo. The weird thing is, Matthew’s bank-based explanation seems kind of familiar. Though, in a dreamlike way, the way everything else here is familiar. Maybe he’d done this for himself. Or his older version had. He shakes it off, lifting his crayons again. ]

That’s…so weird. How do regular people buy anything? They’ve got to have credit cards. They have to.

[ He cannot in fact imagine a world without them. Though, he does turn a pair of wide hazel eyes up towards Matthew. ]

Are there magazines about you – like a comic book? Are you a hero, Matthew?