I pushed my soul in a deep dark hole

[mantlepieces]

WHO: REGGIE MANTLE and YOU!
WHERE: Heropa, Nonah, Maurtia Falls... or anywhere!
WHEN: May 25th - 31st.
WHAT: After a year and a half, Reggie finally made his first trip home... and back again. Needless to say, a lot has changed.
WARNINGS: References to canon-typical death/violence/suicide ideation/zombies, possible mentions of underage drug use, drinking, self-harm, and/or sexual implications. Spoilers for Afterlife With Archie #9.

INTRODUCTION
┍ [ He has to be sedated when he first arrives; Reggie is manic and hysterical, yelling nonsense -- calling out for someone named Sabrina, asking where she went, if she'd heard him, that he'll do it -- grasping at the air and pulling his hair out, his mind refusing yet to make any of the connections required to remind him where he was. While they don't know what's wrong with him, why he's acting so out of his mind, in the Porter lab they're always prepared for almost anything. Reggie responds to the sedation, calming and collapsing to the floor, and not twenty minutes later he remembers where he is -- where he'd been -- as the dull reality of what must have happened hits him like a cold splash of water along with a year and half of displaced memories.

When he's finally "well" enough again he's given his papers and sent on his way, though Reggie doesn't know where to go. ] ┙
∎∎∎∎

▸ HEROPA | NONAH | MAURTIA FALLS;
& feel free to PM or plurk me for a custom starter,
or wildcard it and tag in with your own prompt!

Comments

HEROPA ▸ OUT WITH THE BAD

[mantlepieces]

( cw: possessive misogyny in a vague way, vomiting )

[ For instance, Reggie doesn't think he'd be able to find "home" even if that's where he wanted to be right now; he's still woozy enough from the sedation that walking in a straight is its own effort -- yet his mind is restless. He's never felt like this before when he was here, like an animal in a cage, but then, before, he hadn't-- he hadn't known what was waiting for him, not like he does now.

Reggie looks rough, at least compared to the vain, very obviously deliberate way he usually tends to put himself together; his hair is messy and probably not recently washed, his clothes have the worn-and-dirty look of being one outfit of maybe three that's been basically lived in for weeks, or months, and he has the shadow of stubble on his jaw. He should eat something, or maybe sit down; his body feels empty and numb except for the slow and steady heat burning inside him, consuming him with thoughts of unfinished business, of relief, of impatience, of... Midge. She had finally almost been his and now she's so far away again, as if none of it had even happened. Even the universe is cock-blocking him now, apparently.

A year and a half, and then... how many months had it been? Four, maybe five? He's managed a long time so far being apart from everyone, some of the few people in life he actually cared about -- what's waiting a little longer? He knows how to fix things now. So he gets himself some takeout -- something filling, full of salt and grease and added flavor and a milkshake to wash it down with -- to eat while he walks, wanting to stay on his feet and work off the sedation faster.... until: ]

-- Urk.

[ There's a horrible lurch of his stomach and Reggie suddenly has to run and bury his head in a garbage can where he belongs so he can lose his lunch into it; too much food on too empty of a stomach, most likely. ]

Ack. Gross. Is this what passes for poetic these days? [ He groans miserably, then looks bitterly skyward and gesticulates irritably: ] Would you spare me the damn symbolism?

[hypodermicgurl]

Wash it out.

[A flask is offered over by the woman in the far too heavy for this weather animal print coat now standing next to the can. Scotch, whiskey, whatever his liquor of choice may be he'll find inside. The perfect enabler.

She'd been in the hotel. Been in her room, just slowly pulling at threads on the mattress, tearing it apart in slow, relentless habit. But she's not surprised to be here now, not shocked or disgusted at the kid vomiting next to her.]

Before talking. Your breath reeks.

[mantlepieces]

[ Groaning again, Reggie leans on his arm and pulls his head up -- which feels impossibly heavy, like the body always tends to feel after a violent fit of vomiting -- and looks over at the offered flask. He's not convinced that liquor is what his stomach needs right about now, but he's also not about to say no to a free drink.

Even from a stranger, which is probably something he should reconsider in the future. Reggie wipes his mouth and reaches for the flask, taking a small swig just to rinse and spit with first before taking a longer, grateful drink -- though it stings, and he winces, when he finally swallows. ]

Thanks. [ He smiles weakly, though his eyebrow arches upward in vague skepticism. ] I probably needed that more than the food, anyway.

[hypodermicgurl]

You look like the bottom of a barrel'd be a step up from where you've been, kid.

[ He's not her type, not really. She tilts her head- and yeah. Just too young. The countess might get her kicks off him, but this isn't heading towards that kinda social visit. But she can feel the pull, the tug only a lost soul brings.

So. She gestures for him to keep the flask.]

[mantlepieces]

That's putting it mildly, to be honest.

[ He shakes his head slowly, then takes another drink from the flask when she lets him keep it while he looks her over. Not that she's his type exactly, either, but... like with many 18-year-old boys, he doesn't necessarily let that stop him, situation depending.

But anyway, he has Midge -- well, almost -- and a girlfriend, and also doesn't have money, which he just assumes she'd be expecting. ]

Where'd you come from, anyway? I thought I was alone.

[hypodermicgurl]

Oh, you still are.

[The can was starting to smell. Sally gives it a dirty look and steps back, a little closer to the street.]

There's a bar over there. We'll talk there about why you're calling me.

[mantlepieces]

What does that mean?

[ Reggie frowns slightly, though steps away to follow her, glancing in the indicated direction. Well, he's never one to turn away a drink or two. ]

Look... we can get a drink, but before you go getting any big ideas you should know I'm broke.

[ Was accepting the flask some kind of code or something? ]

[hypodermicgurl]

Don't worry, kiddo. I'm loaded.

[ Her smile isn't exactly friendly, but she's enjoying her own play on words. ]

Bad week? Or life?

[mantlepieces]

Oh. Well if it's all on you, then sure, count me in.

[ Reggie considers asking if she just means drinks, or drinks and... but it doesn't seem like the moment to ask, so he doesn't.

He's quiet for a moment, then laughs dryly. ]

It's that obvious? How bad do I look? [ After a moment, though, he shrugs. ] I'm not sure I even know anymore. Maybe both.

[hypodermicgurl]

Like you're ready to jump on the train outta dodge.

[ Ghost jokes. She has to enjoy what she can. But it's a quick walk to the bar and a corner booth, a bottle of whiskey soon sitting between them as she lights up a cigarette. ]

So lemme guess: another kid with something better waiting on the other side.

[mantlepieces]

... You know, for the longest time I wasn't. I'm still getting used to that feeling -- it's like there's this animal shredding up my insides.

[ There's something oddly freeing about unloading this on a stranger -- someone not in a position to judge him directly, at least not in a way Reggie can't just walk away from if he has to -- even if he doesn't intend on getting too detailed or personal, necessarily. There's a middle-ground, which is actually quite broad for something he also used to avoid altogether.

Reggie pours himself a generous helping of whiskey, taking further relief in the steadiness he feels like it gives him. Warmth, comfort, calmness... god, he's missed alcohol. ]

Who are you?

[hypodermicgurl]

Sally. And I'm not a hooker.

[ She's known that look he'd been given her. Gotten it from every man at the bar for decades. But better to just squish that little shit of a thought now, over a sip of whiskey. ]

Just a girl that knows a thing or two about being stuck. Not sure if it's a nightmare or a dream come true.

NONAH ▸ BEER ME STRENGTH

[mantlepieces]

[ Before, being away from home and everything wrong in Reggie's life gave him the opportunity to block it out as thoroughly and totally as possible, to try and shove all that guilt and shame so far down inside him that even he could forget it was there. He always thought it would be such a nightmare to go back to that, to have to keep fighting to survive all the while being unable to look any of his friends in the eye... and yes, in many ways it had still been its own sort of special hell, but it hadn't been what Reggie thought it would be. He's seen so much more now, more horrors to add to the long list of things Reggie must be indirectly responsible for, sure, but more than that he's seen the way this all could end. Maybe even happily.

Until he goes back, then, all he can do here is kill time; count the days off like an inmate in a cell, just the way everyone else who hates it here does... Reggie doesn't hate it, not really, but he finally understands what it's like to have something to go back for.

Nonah's an energetic, party kind of town, and Reggie's a party kind of guy -- well, he can be and he has been, and if he's killing time he might as well go back to his frat-boy roots -- which is what brings him to throwing down late afternoon in drinking games, cheering and chugging until his throat's sore and the front of his shirt is soaked with beer. At some point he spins around on his barstool and leers at some of his surrounding company, pointing: ]

Hey-- yeah, you. [ Maybe Reggie knows them and maybe he doesn't; he's not paying super close attention, but rather focusing hard on balancing a jello shot on his head. ] "Truth or Dare:" you keep a jello shot on your head and before every turn you take a drink. Dropping the shot means you lose a turn and get dared again. You in?

MAURTIA FALLS ▸ ALWAYS INK RESPONSIBLY

[mantlepieces]

[ A few more days into his return, Reggie makes a decision -- he makes it so easily, in fact, that once it occurs to him he can't help wonder why he never thought of it before. Maybe because Reggie didn't have something from home before -- a mission, a goal, a memory -- to commemorate permanently on his skin, because he never wanted to preserve that connection before. But things are different now, and a tattoo seems like the perfect way not to lose his focus while he's here, no matter how long that ends up being; better yet, it'll vanish when he ever does go back, when he no longer needs it. It's the sort of "eureka!" moment where there's a pinball machine in his brain setting off lights and bells in sequence, yet also the sort Reggie can just sense intuitively that he should keep to himself. Not out of shame, either; he just knows that no one else could ever "get" it, so he'd rather not have to deal with the hassle of answering questions or having his character (and/or sanity) called into even further question.

Like he really needs more judgement.

Therefore, after Friday he might be found walking funny as the new ink, where his hip meets his thigh, starts to dry -- that is to say, heal. He wears jeans of the non-skinny variety, favors one side, and if he has to sit he's very careful about it -- which is how it will be for the next few weeks -- but since he's spent so little time in Maurtia Falls in all his time here he figures he might as well take in the sights as long as he's up here. He was just in Pennsylvania not long ago, and it's a little jarring how different the two experiences are. He stops now and then, looking at the flashing neon signs over the bars and pool dens, the shiftily murmured, drowned-out-by-the-canal conversations on corners or stairwells, the jewelry stores displaying what he can only assume is stolen or fake merchandise, and smirks vaguely to himself. Reggie can't help but be somewhat charmed by all the earnest dishonesty. To himself: ]

Just as sketchy as everyone always makes it sound -- man, I'm almost impressed. Who would've ever thought I'd be actually glad to run out of cash. [ That'll show all the would-be muggers! Reggie shifts his hips again, rubbing his butt idly in lieu of being able to scratch his tattoo; the pressure travels, if applied right. ] Do I even want to know what people do here for fun?

[ He's still talking to himself so it's mostly a rhetorical question, though spoken loudly enough it may sound like he's looking for more recommendations. ]

[huntergames]

[ Sasha had stated she would drop by Reggie's house in an hour's time, but it's a little over that by the time she makes it onto the front porch of the house. She doesn't knock or ring the bell immediately, shifting her weight from one leg to another before straightening her posture and smoothing down her hair. She doesn't know what it is, but both her stomach and mind are abuzz with anxiousness. Perhaps it's more restlessness than anything else; Reggie had been gone near three days and after the first two and her conversation with Chilton, she had been more than convinced he was ported out for good.

And it made her... sad to think about him leaving when he's become one of the few important people in her life here. It also worried her greatly, not helped by Reggie's reluctance to discuss anything about his world, that he was possibly returning to a place where he could get hurt or worse. Stubborn, offensive and callous as he could be, Reggie is still her friend. ]

Um, okay, okay...

[ She swallows lightly and raises twitchy fingers up to the door, curling them against her palm before she knocks softly. Whatever they needed to discuss sounds important, but she can't help how her stomach tightens the more she struggles to determine what it is they need to talk about. ]

[mantlepieces]

[ There isn't long to wait before Reggie gets the door, still looking the same as before -- he hasn't shaved or changed clothes, nothing like that. It's difficult enough just to come to terms with being here again and focusing on that, anything more than that is still beyond him for now.

He'll get over it, he'll have to, but it's hard. Here he'd thought he'd just made such great breakthroughs back home.

Reggie makes sure that he's smiling when he opens the door, though he doesn't greet Sasha in any more intimate way -- no hug, no kiss, nothing like that. ]

Hey. Why do you look so nervous?

[huntergames]

[ As tempting as it is to grab a part of him and pinch to ensure she's not hallucinating Reggie's presence, Sasha stays put and doesn't move to hug or kiss him either. Her mouth curves into an awkward smile at his question, lifting a brow as if it were preposterous suggestion. ]

I'm not nervous. [ She claims quickly, picking at her nails without realizing she's doing so. ] I'm just surprised because... well, I really thought you were...

[ Gone. ]

[mantlepieces]

[ All he says is: ]

Now you know how I felt.

[ Before Reggie moves aside to open the door wider, letting her inside and heading over to the couch. It's still weird, actually seeing her now... the memories are back, but it still feels like months. It's hard to predict how different everything's going to feel now, despite the fact he does feel better than he did before... a little or a lot, depending on the moment. ]

Can't believe after all that it was just a couple days. No one ever really prepares you for what that's like, no matter how many times you hear about it.

[huntergames]

I'm sorry.

[ It slips out before she can even really think about how it's not technically their fault — the Porter does as it likes, so them being here or not is out of their own hands. Although in Sasha's case, she does regret fooling everyone into thinking she was gone longer than she was and feels badly about it.

She walks to the couch, but won't take a seat until Reggie does. Her heart feels like it might plummet into her stomach at any second. ]

It feels strange, doesn't it? Like you're in the wrong place or wrong time.

[mantlepieces]

Sorry for what?

[ Shrugging it off, Reggie sits down, feeling the cushions with his hands before he lets himself settle in... somehow it's easy to get right back in the habit of living within the comfort of a home, yet it also doesn't stop feeling off somehow. Like going around with your shirt on backward, or waking up from a realistic dream.

Which is sort of what this is like, he supposes. ]

Guess I should be more used to the feeling. [ Wrongness in general, really. ] But that's not just what it feels like, that's what it is.

[huntergames]

I don't know — that you were worried then?

[ She finally joins him on the couch, albeit slow at first before she settles in as comfortably as she can. Her hands curl into fists against her lap and her eyes purposely wander everywhere and anywhere before she turns to Reggie to look at him properly.

She knows he's been keeping quiet about certain things for a long time now, but whether they were related to his home is what she doesn't. She's had an idea for a while, though she always finds herself second-guessing what it might be. The secrecy, the so-called vitamins that turned out to be painkillers, even the way he reacts when they end up discussing serious matters... as she gazes long at him, studying the unkempt stubble, his clothes, the exhaustion in his own eyes, Sasha remembers after all this time she still doesn't know Reggie as well as she would like to. ]

I mean, it can't be the wrong time or place because we're here now. Maybe it is meant to be.

[mantlepieces]

I don't know about that It's something, but that sounds... how would that even work?

[ Can it? If it's fate, Reggie has a hard time believing it'd be him here -- it'd make more sense for him to be the one left behind to die. At least the first time, before he'd set off by himself to try and fix everything... before he'd have been fine with calling this fate, because he just didn't know what fate was actually waiting for him.

His mind is going a mile a minute; of course he can't tell Sasha all of that, or even most of it -- she'd never understand. But he does have to say something. Shit, this is hard. How does anyone ever do this? ]

I mean, which part is supposed to meant to be? Us?

[huntergames]

[ She opens her mouth to answer, but barely a sound escapes her and it hangs open instead for a moment before she closes it. That's... a loaded question if she ever heard one, one that she doesn't even know where to look for an answer. She tenses instead, looking away from Reggie to stare forward at nothing in particular. ]

I... I don't know. [ She finally says, her voice quiet. ] I think there's something that brought us here for some kind of reason, even if I don't know if I believe in — in destiny or fate.

[ She would like to think that they were a conscious decision, not the product of something beyond their control. She doesn't feel like she has much of it back home, but here at least there's some semblance of it and freedom.

Sasha turns to look at Reggie, biting down on her lower lip before she slowly reaches for his hand. ]

... what's wrong, Reggie? Did something happen?

[ Back home maybe? ]

[mantlepieces]

Yeah. Probably nothing like what you're thinking, though.

[ At least, compared to her most recent experience. Well -- not that Reggie suspects it's necessarily that different, but he certainly feels differently about it than she felt. All his guilt is about things that have long since happened, and his fear... well, there is still fear. He doesn't know how any of his friends took what Kevin must have told them (because he can trust that Kevin did) or how they'll react when Reggie comes back, if he tries to beg their forgiveness. He doesn't know how he'll feel when he has to kill...

When...

... But if it's worth it then it's worth it. Reggie can figure out how to live with the aftermath when the time comes, since who knows when that'll be? ]

Hey, Sasha. Have you ever been in love before?

[huntergames]

[ The ambiguity isn't soothing what feels like a tense (and growing tenser by the minute) atmosphere. Sasha frowns slightly, eyes trailing to Reggie's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze as she tries to decipher what he possibly means. It doesn't sound as if he's been hurt or killed, but it still doesn't sound good — or maybe she's being paranoid, she can't tell. ]

What happened then? You can tell me, Reggie. We're... we're friends, after all.

[ She forces another smile, though it's surprisingly genuine enough up until she's hit with his question and it immediately falters. ]

I...

[ That's another complicated one that Sasha doesn't know how to answer, but she doesn't want to say "I don't know" again even though she's unable to come up with her own response to his strange questions. Suddenly, she feels quite small and put on the spot, like any answer she gives is going to be the wrong one. ]

... I don't know? Ahaha... [ Her face grows hot then. ] There are people that I love... but I don't think it's the same. Uh, have you...?