maskormenacelogs | That shocking time of year

Entry tags:

That shocking time of year

WHO: April Ludgate and OPEN
WHERE: Heropa and then her house
WHEN: May 1st
WHAT: April Returns from her month long port out
WARNINGS: Nothing yet

Heropa

The Porter had something against her happiness. That was all there was to it. April stepped out of the main Porter building, scowled off the offered help- yes, she knew her powers and address, okay- then sighed at the world around her. While, of course, in her PJs. In the middle of a crowded street.

Awesome.

"And we're back."

Our House, In The Middle of Our Zoo

She was still in (now slightly dirty) PJ shorts and tank top as she trudged her barefoot way up to the house. She hadn't actually stopped to check how long she'd been gone for, just knew porting out had happened. Unless she died in sex. That would be a real notch on Will's murder belt.

But before reaching the house itself, there are the animals to deal with. Raccoons coming from out of the trees, dogs coming from...everywhere. Just everywhere. Unless people come say hi to April out on the lawn, it'll be a few minutes before she makes it all the way to the front door.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

So many animals. And dogs? Dogs bark. Will Graham has been around dogs long enough, and now finally able to become one, that he knows the differences in barks. The differences in which dog barking means he should pay attention. So when he hears a flurry of what sounds like welcome back, he wonders if Rincewind or Jeff came around early. But there's something more to it, something that sounds close to mother, close enough he gets a sense that these are the sounds of furbabies happy to see...

Oh.

One of the second story windows opens because Will is not about to waste time running down the stairs. Instead, he climbs out of it, and his shadow grows as he makes his way down the roof. By the time he's ready to jump off it, there is a feathered stag on the lawn, holding still to act as a ladder. Will Graham is a bearded, excited thing, but he's not about to break his ankle.

So that's her husband, a furry mess of a man using the skills granted by the Porter deity to get to her ASAP and safely, ignoring silly things like words as he takes care not to step on any of their four-legged children but also moves super quickly to hug her like he hasn't seen her in years.

And then the shaggiest dog of them all. Even if she'd only been gone ten minutes and Will wrapped her up like that, there's only one response: burrowing in. Legs around hips, face against his neck. With the dogs leaping up to tap front paws against her back still, there's a strong change they may fall into the pile and just die there, buried under the fluff and slobber.

Not that she'd complain.

"Nothing's on fire, huh."

He takes a moment to make sure her legs are placed just so and that there aren't any doggos right beneath him before he, literally, falls to his knees. She is a truly powerful force in that way. He's a solid, sturdy presence, but he's tired and has possibly lost a whopping two or three pounds, and it's really just better this way. Gives the dogs and raccoons plenty of them to pat and sniff and lick. What will the neighbors think!?

"Just my heart."

Oh no, feelings.

A push and shove and April's back in her natural state: on top. Will's back against the grass, happy dogs and the building number of once-more intelligent raccoons coming back to their master after thoughts as she shifts to more or less sit on his hips, hands still on either side of his face, and takes him in. Her knees are going to be stained green when they get up (nature), but that's far, far down on the list of concerns. She'd been gone longer than she thought.

"Babe, I have no idea if that's literal or not."

Despite creeping worry, there's still dry humor there. Sure, she really hopes Will hasn't taken up letting people cut his organs for roasting out while she was gone...but. You know. Always possible.

Back on top, which is absolutely where she belongs. The dogs know it, nature knows it, Will Graham knows it. He falls back into place with absolute ease. No struggle here for flipping things on their head. He's overjoyed they're finally back where they belong. One hand rests on her thigh, the other covering hers along his face...his super furry face. Maybe he'll shave tomorrow. Or the next day. Maybe.

Maybe not. Whatever the queen demands.

He makes a sound that's half "ugh" and half snorted laugh, legs pulling up to prevent hump-happy dogs having their way with them.

"He's, he's been gone. Couple days now to my estimation. Not literal."

In a grand display of sap, he twists his fingers to move through hers and puts her hand over his heart. The beat is steady, stable, just like the way looks at her.

Until raccoon fingers yank on his hair, anyway, and then his heartbeat jolts in time with the whiny hey that escapes him.

The whine is met with a giggle from above, God accepting this tribute of humor on the occasion of her return. Hand still resting on his heart, April leans down to press a kiss against his poor, tormented hair. Don't blame the kids, Will. They're just happy to remember things again.

"I knew the Porter gods were looking out for me. If a sacrifice Fred's suits to her maybe I can fast-forward over every new Baltimore drama."

So tormented, it's true. Like mother, like child, though — there are raccoon kisses being delivered to the back of his head now, or so he assumes that's what it is. He doesn't have fleas. He's fairly sure, anyway, that this isn't a grooming thing.

"Good idea." He raises a finger to point as if this is indeed the best idea offered by anyone in the entire history of classes. "But, later. You are not leaving my sight for the next..." He twists his wrist to see his watch, like it matters. "...thousand hours. Not even to pee or take a shower. Starting now."

Roughly forty-two days of wedded bliss await them both.

"Mm. You can catch me up on how the kids have ruined their lives lately while you draw the bath."

Rincewind was most def going to be getting a talking to. There should be another lovely lady in the bed waiting for a threesome at this point. He really was the worst wizard around. But all that stays on the inside for now as April makes it clear she's ready to be carried in the house, whether by shaggy husband or on a moving wave of raccoon fur. She'll take either.

He is an old man with a screwed up shoulder and aching joints, who sometimes has issues getting up after he's been crouched for too long. Yet in this moment he has none of that, only the strength and fluidity of himself fifteen years before, a prime buck ready for the police world of parking violations and petty theft. He's even got that wide-eyed, glossy wonder of someone who hasn't seen much horror at all as he gets them both up and carries April inside, unable to look away from her face. Good thing they've been there as long as they have so he can navigate the door frame and all without having to do too much that isn't stare at April.

"Eduardo's the only one who stuck around. Stayed up in the attic mostly." He's only speaking now because he's caught sight of the little bastard already putting the others in line. "Except for when he took a shit in the laundry and stole my lunch."

Healthy father-son relationship kept up in her absence.

Warm baths and ignoring the world in bed for a few days (until Mitch constantly texting her reminded her that work existed) was the perfect treatment for screwed up shoulders and porter-related issues alike. April rests her head on his shoulder during the bridal carry, watching as all the little minions fall into a line like baby ducklings behind them. Until they actually get in the house, then they start breaking off into clusters to resume normal house-keeping duties that had gone astray in her absence.

"So nothing changed much."

"Fred and I made a depressing address to the Network. Some widespread sleeping sickness reared its ugly head, too. Not much else."

All of that is as normal as raccoons scampering about them, yes, nothing here is out of place. It's back where it should be, really. At least Eduardo seems to show some sort of apology by going ahead and opening their bedroom door so Will doesn't have to get awkward with it. Apology via wingmanning? Mysterious.

The bed is a a world of regret. It's been changed but, obviously, the last few nights it's been slept on not in. The comforter is wrinkled, and there is a huge book of crossword puzzles in the middle of it, and that's it. No sexy wife because Rincewind cannot be trusted. But Will walks right past it all, stopping only to very carefully set April on the sink counter because he has the task of bath drawing.

Well, in a second. He's busy moving some hair out of her face because it gives him an excuse to look at her.

"Still here, babe."

She's ready to be moved around like a doll, no protesting. She's been away, he'd only had Fred and their house of losers to comfort him. It really was amazing he hadn't gone and gotten a new serial killer boyfriend and ended up dead. Not that Will was stupid. Just made poor choices when in dark places.

And, you know. There was nothing wrong with just being worshiped a little.

"Sorry I was gone."

Still here and still being admired. He smiles and puts his hand down. Then the other. Then he leans forward, forehead to forehead, and takes a long, loud breath. Shameless sucking in of April scent, that's what he's doing.

"Maybe we should stop having sex. Seems to be a sign the Porter should join us."

He sounds completely serious and that's the biggest sign he is not completely serious at all.

"Oh, babe. You really did go crazy without me."

Like no sex is even a thing that exists on any plane of existence. Please. To underline this point she reaches her arms down to hook under her PJ shirt and get rid of that noise.

Thus confirming April has, indeed, been walking all over god's creation with no bra on.

To be fair, no bra is the best way to be. Will tosses that noise in the hamper rather than openly staring at tits, though that is bound to come later. April has great tits. He can't be held responsible.

"You were gone a really long time."

As if he needed to justify the whole going crazy thing. April is left with a kiss to the forehead so Will can plug the tug, turn on the water, and sprinkle in a generous helping of bubble bath. He ain't cutting corners now.

"Did you...go back?"

Not go home. Go back.

"Nah. I'll never know how the Harvest Festival went."

It's said with a small scoff, April occupying herself with pushing hair out of her face and staying put while Will prepares her bathing ritual. Harvest Festival. The things that had seemed so big and important in Pawnee were just...nothing. Nothing compared to invading Russians or serial killers on the prowl or worlds ending. But it still, all these years later, left a tiny heart ache.

"Guess the porter just wanted to give you some alone time."

"Spent most my alone time drunk."

This is a special bath that calls for rainbow bubbles. The last time he used these were on a Special Night, at least to his memory. Maybe Rincewind got them at some point. He cannot be sure. But he can make it known that while April was gone he became a sponge for liquor and sorrow, and therefore his beard did grow in leaps and bounds.

"Funds'll be a little tighter than usual this month."

A lone rainbow bubble floats through the air and lands in said beard.

Jacob walks past the Porter building, having just Ported over recently himself for errands that aren't especially important. Then he stops. Then he looks over his shoulder. Sees April, sees April in her PJs. Then he retraces his steps.

"April? Hey, are you okay?"

Jacob does feel some protectiveness toward his former probation officer/occasional Network tormentor, and pyjamas in public implies either possible distress or a really good weekend. And it's Monday, which rules out the second option.

Day of the week can never rule out a good weekend, Jacob. But as it is April blinks over at him, the sun still stabbing her eyes. Okay. So it was just a normal Heropa day, but she's ready to take offense with any bit of the world that isn't the bed in her house she should be in right now.

"Oh my god. No. No heroic rescues. I'm not that bad."

She glances down at her current state...and frowns at her feet.

"...ngh. Maybe."

He sees the blinking, and offers April his hat to block out the scorching Sun. Like the walking self-parody of an upstanding space marine he is.

"Sure you're not," he says dryly. "Welcome back, April. Want some help getting some shoes?"

Jacob may not be able to get April into her proper bed in her proper house, but maybe he can get some proper protection between her feet and the pavement.

"Dunno, you gonna steal them?"

It's a weak come back with a weary voice, but she tried. Criminal and all, you know? So funny. But she sighs and trudges over to Jacob even while saying it. She just really, really, doesn't want to deal with this shit right now. Or ever. Not ever, ever doing this was a good choice.

Jacob smiles softly.

"I don't think that will be necessary," he says. "Maybe next time, though."

He motions for her to follow him.

"I know a place just around the corner. We'll get you taken care of, then you can get home to the raccoons."

And to Will, the dogs, and whoever the two of them had adopted lately. But all that went without saying, really.

"Next time you can start a shoe-based revolution."

She offered only rolling eyes to anyone that stopped and stared. Chief of staff wasn't really like being a celebrity, but being that for the only imPort senator (and being an imPort herself) did mean she got a couple looks of recognition. Maybe this walk of shame would make the papers.

"Anyone die in the last couple days?"

Jacob snorted gently at the image of shoe-related civic disruption. In truth, he hadn't felt much cause for rebellion since the Debrecen protest, and that had been more than a year ago. Now, he was dedicated to helping people as part of RISE in ways great and small. Today, that meant looking meaningfully at the civilians who recognized April, letting them know with his eyes that this was not the time for any of the fannish paparazzi bullshit that routinely plagued imPorts in public.

"It's been pretty quiet," he replied as they neared the store. "Most of the Network is port-outs and new arrivals, like it usually is this time of month. The main thing we're recovering from right now is this 'sleep plague.' Be glad you missed it- it was rough."

"I missed napping?" That is enough to get her to actually throw her arms up in the air. "Yeah, okay. I'm here for Russia kidnapping and thunderdome but miss the freaking naps?"

Porter god, what has she done to offend thee?

Jacob grimaced, then rubbed the back of his head.

"If it helps, we were in some kind of messed up shared dream while we were asleep. More like a nightmare. So you also missed seeing me join the Russians and hunt imPorts like they were animals."

So. Not really a good kind of nap. Jacob had been telling himself over and over that it had just been a dream, but something at the back of his mind wouldn't stop asking him why he kept joining the bad guys.

"Stop making me feel worse. God."

And she missed her wannabe villain actually villain it up. The world was unjust and cruel. Jacob may be questioning his own nature, but all April could think was what a show. Everyone going crazy was one of the few things she appreciated about this place from time to time.

Jacob halted and turned to give her an eyebrow. They were at the threshold of the shoe place now, one of the small independent shops that dotted Heropa with idiosyncratic wares and warm hospitality.

"Sorry to disappoint," he said dryly. "Don't worry. The way things work, next week I'll probably be a serial killer. At least you can be here for that."

He was getting pretty sick of shit outside his control turning him into something he didn't want to be.

"Just don't steal my husband from me."

She loved the man, but she knew him. And she'll just help herself into the shoe store, ignoring the 'no shoes no service' sign. If she already had shoes, she wouldn't need the place, now would she?

That got a dry chuckle from Jacob as he followed her into the shoe store, casting his eyes around to make sure no employees were going to make a fuss about the sign. Because obviously she has no shoes, that is why she is in a shoe store, people.

"Don't worry. Will isn't exactly my type. I'm sure he's going to be happy as hell to see that you're back, too."

Although who knew? Hypothetical Serial Killer Jacob might be into it. Anything was possible.

"Yeah."

It's a much softer tone than she's used so far, a word almost easy to miss as she marches over to grab the first pair of sandals she sees. The tone left little room for doubt about the level of love in the marriage.

But there was still the chance Will had gone and gotten involved with a different killer while she was done. Dogs off their leashes and all.

"What's your type, anyway?"

Jacob's face goes soft and thoughtful as he watches April sandal herself up. It's a good question, and one he has thought about for a while.

"Strong," he says after a moment. "Brave. Reliable. Someone you can trust, and trust with other people. Beyond that..." He shrugs, rubs the back of his neck. "I don't really know. I guess I'll know for sure when I find her."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That shocking time of year

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Heropa

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject