War with D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!

WAR WITH DESTINY

By headsman's blade or battle-axe

Fight For Your Life

Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.

For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.

The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree.

You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.

BATTLE MODE: ATTACK

You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.

She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.

Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.

SEEK SANCTUARY

Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.

BATTLE MODE: SUPPORT (PSYLINK)

And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.

Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.

Drift Compatible

The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.

You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.

In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.

The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.

Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.

But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.

Comments

Mandy Slade | OTA + closed

[smileslie]

Sanctuary; OTA
[for all her anger, Mandy isn't a fighter. Oh, she's thrown a punch and put her knee between the legs of more than one handsy bastard, but that was different. That was just making sure that people understood that just because she wore heels and glitter it didn't mean she was weak. This..this is nothing like that. She doesn't know how to fight against monsters that aren't driven by the hate that's bred of ignorance and fear of anything different, but are just….monsters.

But she does know how to care, as much as she'll try to pretend she doesn't. She's hesitated in coming here, not because she doesn't want to help--she does, because she hates feeling like that pretty airhead she pretended to be--but because this is a side of herself even Arthur hadn't seen yet, not really. He might have lived something of the same life that made it a necessity to know how to deal with black eyes and bruised ribs if not for yourself than the people you cared about, but she knows that even if he treats her like a person she's still something of a star in his eyes, and it might be shocking for him to see this. But right now, she actually can't give a fuck about keeping up the mask of being untouched by the horrible things that teach a person those lessons.

Which is why nearly anyone who's really crossed paths with her before might be surprised not only to see her hair pulled entirely away from her face instead of draped down to hide it as it often is, but to hear her voice totally absent of that fake accent that usually weaves in and out as she speaks so there's nothing but the blunt American when she sees someone clearly about to fall over if they don't at least get someone propping them up]

Jesus. Come here, let's get you sat down before you break yourself more.


Psylink; closed to Arthur. CW for mention of drug use, eventual mentions of emotional/physical abuse and sexism/homophobia in both of their labyrinths
[Maybe it's because they've at least shared scraps of memory with each other or maybe because of everyone here Arthur is the closest to knowing who she really is, but this linking business it's as difficult as Mandy would have thought something like this should be. At least, not at first. At first it's not too unlike the best times when she'd get high with Brian, when they were totally in sync with each other, feeling almost like the same person and tuning out the rest of the world.

But then it's like that sensation of tripping just as you're falling asleep, the world catching and slipping under her, and then--

Then she's walking across a floor covered in newspaper, stepping over snapshots of her life. Everything's white. All the technicolour glitter she'd tried to cover the world in has been washed away, replaced with white sheets and dusty photographs. But not quite, because there's a flash of blue moving out from behind one of the covered chairs and the light strikes it in just the right way to send bright sparkles into her eyes so she's nearly blinded as the figure moves towards her and speaks in a raspy voice]

Mandy

[her heart jumps at first, and she doesn't know if she's angry or excited or terrified, only that like always he's making her feel too much, and her throat is so tight that her voice is much smaller than she'd like when she starts to reply]

Hello, Bri-

[But his name sticks hard in her mouth when she realizes this isn't the too-skinny man her husband has become as of late. Instead there's the sparkling god she'd created in his image, leaning against the chair and smiling at her with too-red lips, and she's suddenly dumsbtruck by his image just like everyone else in the world]


wildcard
[hit me up at keenquing if you want something else]

[astralera]

[ So maybe she's a bit... drained. But Era definitely is not in bad enough condition to need to sit down and rest for long - just enough to switch over to a healing job and heal the worst of her injuries. As a paladin she had taken a lot of damage, but her defense was strong enough that it was almost all superficial. More recently however, as a red mage she had taken a great deal of hits that she probably should have avoided regardless of Aymeric's attempts to cover her.

It was casting Vermillion Scourge that was the final straw for her current energy levels - such a powerful Limit Break always came at a cost, and while she had managed to continue fighting for a good length of time afterwards there were only so many Vercures she could cast on herself before needing a quick rest. Possibly a few Elixirs to get her energy levels back up.

Mandy's approach startles her, if only because the change of accent is unfamiliar to her. Era has heard it slip a few times in the past, but never so completely. ]

I will be fine in a few moments.

[ Era puts her rapier away and pulls out her cane. Instantly her clothes change from a fancy red outfit to a crisp white robe, quick as a blink. Next it's just a matter of casting Benediction, and within a second all of her serious wounds have been made superficial and all of her superficial wounds have healed.

It doesn't aid with how tired she feels now that she's away from the battlefield, body still quivering from the adrenaline of fighting for the lives of herself and her allies. Peki is somewhere behind her, all dressed up in armoured barding now splattered with blood - his crisp golden feathers are dotted with crimson as well, along with his beak, and Era feels an immense surge of affection for her most steadfast companion. ]

[smileslie]

[Maybe it's her time here, or all the time she spent working to get costume changes down to seconds, or just the fact that she's running on adrenaline herself, but Mandy hardly blinks at the change in Era's wardrobe.

She does, however, raise an eye brow at the other woman's statement when she sees how she's still trembling. She knows an adrenaline crash, at least]

Maybe you won't be collapsing from blood loss, but I'm pretty sure your legs don't want to be holding you up for much longer. Come on. You're not doing any of us any good if you keep running on empty without catching your breath.

[which is would be laughable if she stopped to think about it, since she often ran on stimulants alone for days, but that was different. She was keeping a show running, not fighting a bloody war]

[astralera]

[ Truthfully, if Aymeric hadn't needed a rest Era likely would have stayed out fighting. But she is reluctant to fight without him nearby, and while she can keep fighting for days at a time once she loses her momentum... It's frustrating, but for all her inhuman abilities and strength she is still unerringly mortal.

Peki is quick to trot up behind her, nuzzling the corner of her head with his beak; messing her hair and inadvertently smudging blood into it. He lets out a friendly kweh in greeting to Mandy but otherwise keeps his attention on his companion. ]

Normally I would have been fine to continue, but...

[ But Aymeric, of course.

Speaking of whom, Era is quick to glance around until she catches sight of her dear friend, and is momentarily panicked when she doesn't spot him right away. She finds his silhouette relatively quickly settling down once more when she does. With Peki behind her, Era leans her weight back into him and the Chocobo takes it easily, seemingly accustomed to it. ]

This is Peki. [ since Peki and Mandy have yet to be introduced, she realizes. ] Peki, this is Mandy. Be kind to her.

[ He lets out another kweh, seemingly greeting Mandy before chuffing what sounds like a mildly offended 'wark' at Era. As if he would be anything but kind! ]

[smileslie]

[Mandy smiles faintly at the bird] Hello there. I had a bird who looked a bit like him, a long time ago. He was much smaller, though. I think we'll get along fine.


[she sighs a little at Era; she's spent more time than she'll ever say here taking care of people, fighting a whole other sort of war that few people see, so she doesn't really have room to talk]

I ah...know we're rather different, but you're sure there's nothing you need a hand patching up? [it's frustrating to have that feeling of being useless in a situation like this, for there to be things she can't fix with a stitch or a drink, so she's actively looking for them]

[astralera]

[ Now probably isn't the best time to ask what sort of bird she had that was like a small Chocobo, but Era will keep it in mind to ask at a later date. Instead she'll take Mandy's question into consideration. There really isn't anything she needs help with, though Era thinks that the other woman might need to be useful. It was a feeling Era knew Alphinaud had felt at times, so it's something she tries to keep in mind in times of crisis. ]

I could use assistance ridding myself of any damaged scales in places I find hard to reach. [ she can do it on her own, and hasn't actually let anyone assist her with that before. perhaps because there was never a reason to. ]

[smileslie]

[while Mandy knows she could seem like the sort to be squeamish to anyone who doesn't know the gritty details of her life, she doesn't seem at all put out by Era's remark. She just nods and carefully walks around, giving Era a glance that is different from the way she looks at people, usually. Most people in Xistentia have likely seen her give appraising glances to pretty boys and girls, or at the very least teasing them.

This...Arthur's the only one who might have really seen this, real concern and concentration and being very serious]

Anything I shouldn't do? I'm assuming just ripping them off wouldn't be very pleasant? [she tries to smirk] I've stitched up a friend a bit once or twice so I almost know the basics of what I'm doing, but I'd guess scales are a lot different from skin.

[astralera]

[ The scales are sure to fall out on their own soon enough, but it will be nice not to feel any misaligned ones rubbing against her haubergeon when taking note of her injuries between fights. ]

Damaged scales will shed on their own with time. They are duller than the others, usually visibly askew or bent, and a light tug will pull them free. It should only take a few minutes at most.

[ Era would rather not be in a public area for this however, regardless of whether or not anyone is paying her any attention. ] Is there a more private area available?

[smileslie]

[Mandy nods; in another place and time, she would have teased Era a bit about how she doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about. But right now, and knowing the other woman a bit, she is far more the tired, no-nonsense American than the party girl]

Sure. [she jerks her head to one of the more secluded spots, shrugging out of her own long black cardigan as she does] Best we can manage for a curtain, I'm afraid. But if anyone decides this the perfect chance to get a free peep, I'll happily show them one of the reasons I still wear rings with stones in them.

[she hasn't told Era much in that way; oh, she's talked about making men uncomfortable, but she hasn't mentioned that she actually knows how to hurt someone a little, but now seems as good a time as any]

[astralera]

[ she really doesn't have anything to be embarrassed about - she barely has any bust to speak of Era appreciates the gesture, and quickly focuses on the crystal containing her sleepwear, instantly changing into her shorts and camisole. ]

I believe Peki would beat you to it. [ She sounds amused, and also makes a note to make a ring for Mandy after everything is over.

The Chocobo in question is most definitely standing sentinel for them both, affording them more privacy than Mandy's cardigan alone could offer. ]

[smileslie]

[Mandy grins when she notices the bird's stare; she may not be familiar with Peki's particular species, but she's known enough other birds to recognize a 'I will peck your eyes out if given half a good reason' look]

I'm sure he'd do as good if not better than some men I've paid for the job.

[she still wonders what Era makes of her comments like that; she's sure explaining her husband was a performer doesn't give near enough cultural context for them.

She licks her lips slightly as she gets close to Era] Have you had someone do this for you before? [it's said lightly, the way she'd ask the boys if they were used to having someone measure their inseam]

[astralera]

[ it doesn't strike Era as odd that Mandy might have hired bodyguards in the past - she herself has acted as one numerous times before, and she's familiar enough with the concept of 'performers' to believe she would warrant needing one.

She makes sure to keep her tail unnaturally still so as not to accidentally hit Mandy with it. There are a few areas of scales that she would have trouble reaching on her own comfortably - the very base of her tail, the ones tapering to her lower back, and the ones on the backs of her arms.]

No. I have always let them fall out on their own if I can't reach them myself.

[smileslie]

[Mandy nods, not disintrestedly, but with an almost professional air. This, this is...well, it's close to familiar. She's dressed people and made adjustments while they were in said clothing; despite her filthy nature, she does know how to touch a person in what might be an intimate matter without it being anything but practical.

She does err on being a bit more cautious at first though, starting with Era's arms. And it is easy to see one that is obviously damaged, compared to the rest, and she reaches out gently to take one between her fingers--she'd use her nails if a few hadn't gotten broken, which frustrates her--and pulling carefully]

All right?

labyrinth because I didn't need my heart--heh. Labyrinth.

[tangleofgarlands]

[If you'd told Arthur even a month ago that he'd be here today, ready to be more intimate with Brian Slade's wife than he's been with anyone except, ironically, Curt--he'd have blushed to the roots of his hair and asked what you were on.

But somehow, against all odds and defying what he is becoming convinced is all natural laws of probability, here he is. He squeezes her hand before they go under, and holding onto that image helps to anchor him once the strange and terrifying process begins.

It seems like maybe it works, at least, at first. Nothing here resonates with him or brings up any fear, and he doesn't have to wonder long what Mandy's thinking of. He recognizes her shadow--how could he not?--but it's somehow distorted, sinister.]

Mandy?

[He steps forward, trying to stay grounded while she drifts so she's got something to hang onto, and puts a hand firmly on her shoulder. If Brian, or this facet of Brian, wants to touch her, he'll have to go through Arthur first.

There's a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye, but he ignores it . Focus. Stay in the present.]

It isn't real.

.

[smileslie]

[The touch is surprising, at first because she feels like she's gone numb. It's been the only way to survive lately, cutting off everything that really felt and shutting it away. But then the words register, and she actually looks at things, noticing the things besides Brian that aren't right. She knows the public's outrage has been covering their home lately, literally and figuratively, and the newsprint at her feet doesn't just show that. There's stuff from years back, happy snapshots from when it was just the two of them gallivanting across England. He hadn't wanted to see those things anymore, all he wanted to look at was Curt and himself. Mostly himself.

She swallows, nodding stiffly to show Arthur she's heard. Arthur. The name comes back without really thinking about it, and she remembers--mostly--what she's supposed to be doing. She's not surprised her subconscious or whatever brought her here, she'd been here enough in nightmares before, but--not quite like this.

She tries to find her voice to shout her way out this memory like she always had before, but the creature-Brian, Maxwell, does it fucking matter which one of them it pretends to be--laughs. It sounds familiar and not just because it's her husband's voice--because he laughed just like that nine years ago, and it's sick that hearing it helps. Sort of.]

Nothing here was ever real, was it Mandy? That's why you loved it. You could pretend you were more than a ditzy little tramp who'd read enough to say something that sounded almost clever between fucks, that you were actually helping people by snogging a couple girls where people could see it.

[She doesn't want it to hurt, she wants to say she's long over that hurting--but the fact is, she knows it's not him saying it, it's her own fucked up head putting it in his mouth because the words fit there.

She tries to draw herself up straight to tell him off like she would have in the past, but then that thing is moving faster than Brian ever could have, even when he was still healthy and one of the best dancers she'd known, and there's a cold finger stroking her cheek--and that's something you forget, that glitter is beautiful but it also scrapes like sandpaper when you wear it in those sorts of quantities]

That's why you wanted to end it when you got out of here. You realized how useless you were without me, didn't you? And you couldn't even do that right.

[it could have strangled her and it would have hurt less. And it might do that, she thinks, as one sharp nail trails against her skin, and even though she raises her hand up to feel for Arthur's she still can't make herself refute this creature that she knows is also a sick part of herself]

[tangleofgarlands]

[Not-Brian advances, brushing blue fingers against Mandy's cheek, and Arthur immediately wants to smack it away, but he holds back. That's not what he's supposed to be doing here, is it? They're not here to fight each other's battles--they're here to keep each other tethered.

So he squares his shoulders and makes the decision to ignore the shadow entirely, no matter what it says. Mandy reaches for his hand, and he laces their fingers together and squeezes firmly.]

Look at me. He's not real, but you are. Whatever he thinks--it doesn't matter. Without you, none of it would have happened, and I wouldn't have learned to stand up for myself and be who I am.

Mandy. [He hates the way that Maxwell-Brian says it, like it's some kind of insult--he pours all of the softness into his own voice that he can, drawing from their late-night conversations over coffee and the loud, energetic color of the bar.]

Even if he was real, it wouldn't make him right. You're the furthest thing from useless.

[smileslie]

[For a horrible moment, all Mandy can actually hear is Brian's voice, the knowledge that he's right because nothing changed. Everything she'd done had been washed away so she'd become just a footnote in his life as far as the rest of the world as concerned. Arthur doesn't know yet what the world's going to become, just why she's so tired and puts so much into making her pretty masks for him. So she can't do anything but look at the creature who represented so many things she'd wanted and had and why had she let it go.

But something about the pressure of Arthur's fingers makes some of that recede back, not all the way but enough to let her yank her gaze away from the thing that might have been Brian for a little while. The movement makes something wet slide down her cheek, and it shouldn't be a relief when she raises her free hand to wipe at it and sees red on her knuckles. But she'd rather be bleeding than give even a shadow of Brian the satisfaction of making her cry. And the real Brian wouldn't have done that, hurting someone in a way that might risk leaving a mark on his spotless skin, so it helps]

I was for awhile. [it's not said with shame, just raw honesty. She knows she let Brian take too many years from her, even after she got out. She lets out a very shuddery breath and makes her lips turn up] But maybe you're right. Even if I only help you, that's more than he ever did after he gave up.

[it's...freeing, to admit that Brian was the one who burned and salted everything, not her and Curt. They got out, because of what he was doing. He was the one who decided money was more important than a revolution. She still isn't sure Arthur's right, that she really matters, but maybe is a start.

And maybe it's trying to actually fight back, or maybe it's just her own screwed up heart, that makes the damn thing pull at her again, wrapping its cold arm across her chest in an embrace that is anything but gentle, and she wonders if there's going to be blood under her shirt now too as it claws--very purposefully, she's sure--above her heart]

You're still alone though. But who can blame you? How could you ever want anyone after you had me?

[fuck and shite and every other word that would have made her mother wash her mouth out with soap, it couldn't be so simple as rejecting the idea that her life wasn't worth living. It never could be with Brian]

[tangleofgarlands]

[Arthur sees red in more than just the blood that comes away from Mandy's fingers, and again he has to grit his jaw and take a deep breath to shut down the urge to hurl himself at the specter. He reminds himself it isn't real, but it still makes him seethe, and he tightens his grip on her hand.]

You have helped me. Even just in the last few months, you've been there for me in a way that nobody else ever has. By itself, that's worth something, and I know for a fact it's not even close to the most you've done for people like us. We needed to know it was alright to be the way we were, that we didn't have to be ashamed. Just because he threw that away doesn't mean you weren't part of it, too.

[And, alright, he can't help it--he shoots a dark, venomous glare at the shadow, into its cold, empty eyes, before looking back at Mandy.]

And you're not alone. I'm proof enough of that.

[smileslie]

[Mandy isn't at all surprised by the fact that someone rising to her defense makes the thing sink the inhuman claws just a little deeper, and she's never regretted suggesting the idea that Brian make himself into an alien so much, but she couldn't have known she'd be making her own perfect monster.

It's all but impossible to remember that, that this creature isn't real--had never been real--when she can feel his damn breath on her neck when he scoffs and her skin crawls and she can't be sure it's completely out of revulsion, even when she knows precisely what's coming when it laughs again, a quiet chuckle instead of that hyena's cackle]

'Women are a decorative sex. They never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly. '. And you're hardly even decorative, now. You could have been, if you'd been clever enough to change yourself for me. [and there are fingers in her hair and they're nothing gentle, not even teasing, and fuck, she is not playing this game, not against herself. Not when there's actually one person who can see through the bullshit they painted everything with and still find something beautiful.

She jerks away without thinking, and she is going to smash the damned computer or whatever that's picking all this from her mind with a rock because it would be bad enough without feeling like her hair and clothes have actually been torn, but she still stumbles into Arthur with a trembling breath, and it's not easy to stay grounded in him while also facing down this thing the only way she actually knows how to prove it wrong]

'You used to stir my imagination. Now you don't even stir my curiosity.' [her voice is far lighter than she'd like it to be, barely holding on to the accent that still covers her words when she has to be this cutting, awful person, and she still feels like her fingers are clammy and shaking a bit in Arthur's, but she manages to keep her gaze up and even feels the corner of her mouth tug just a little when she drops her voice back for Arthur] You mean that. Before...this [the weakest gesture with her bloodied hand at the room covered in newsprint and white powder] you actually gave a singular fuck that I was even there?

[it's at least possible to see herself stepping into the void Brian left, but looking back on it now and seeing herself anywhere but on the sidelines is quite a lot harder]

[tangleofgarlands]

[Mandy seems to lose her footing, or maybe just recoils from the beastly figure in front of her, but either way Arthur finds himself catching her weight and he grounds his own. Her grip on his hand doesn't loosen at all, though, and he keeps his hold firm, his other arm winding about her waist.

He hugs her tight and refuses to look at the creature in front of them, a twisted, cracked reflection of their former glory.]

Of course I did. I loved you. I wanted to be you. I was terrified someone would find out about the thoughts I was having, and then I saw you smiling on telly and you looked so happy and confident. That was the first time it occurred to me that I didn't have anything to be ashamed of.

[He can feel the wet blood seeping into his shirt, and he doesn't care--he keeps holding on.] He's the one who gave up on it. Not you.

[smileslie]

[Mandy's laugh at that is fragile and she shakes her head]

We need to find you a better role model. [she does let the words roll over in her head though; some of it doesn't really surprise her, there was a reason she'd been so sure about him being more suited to Marilyn than Herman. And while part of her wants to hate Brian for making her happiness into an act...it wasn't always. Being in this room makes that difficult to remember, but she'd loved it, once, and not just for the money and the attention. And the press conference, that day when Brian had told their truth, that day was still one of the happiest in her life. And she realizes it's because of people like Arthur, not herself, and that makes it a little easier to give him a genuine smile]

But maybe it's a good thing to have someone around who can tell you from experience not to drop your entire life to make it all about boy, no matter how many songs he says he wrote for you. [that's. A difficult thing to say outloud, that nagging wonder if Ladytron had ever really been hers like he'd told her] Especially if he tells you he's the center of your world, it just means he's the only person in his.

[that's the most articulate thing she can think to say for the creature's other accusation, taht she'll never love like that again. She doesn't want to be alone, but she doesn't want to worship anyone that way again. She draws a shaking breath, forcing herself to step back out of Arthur's embrace and take his hand, not caring about the blood. It won't be there when they come to, but she'll remember it well enough ]

Come on, there's...nothing for me here. [she doesn't know if it was her words or Arthur's that made the creature seem to vanish, but she doesn't think it matters because both reminded her why she'd run out this door without looking back once before]

cw: physical abuse and violent homophobia and just throw me in a sea of my tears I'm fine

[tangleofgarlands]

He should have felt you were the center of his world. I might not have much experience, but I know that much about love. It's about being selfless.

[But, as not-Brian melts away and the room becomes an empty, lifeless shell, it seems whatever he said before has done the trick--Mandy found her footing again, and he can feel it in the strength of her grip and see it in the slight, proud lift to her shoulders.

Smiling, he takes her hand and follows her out the door.

And then, in an instant, it's like stepping into a vacuum that sucks away every bit of strength and pride he has in himself, everything he'd tapped into in order to bolster Mandy up--all of it is gone, along with all of the air in his lungs in a harsh exhale as they leave the haunted-looking studio for the cramped interior and angled ceiling of his bedroom in Manchester.]

No. No.

[What had he even been expecting? Out of everything he's experienced in his comparatively short life, there's one afternoon that stands out in sharp, painful relief. Of course it's this--but, tightening his grip on Mandy's hand hard enough that his own knuckles go white, it's the last thing he'd wanted her to have to see.

Posters cover the walls. Hendrix. The Ratz. Brian--a thousand photographs of Brian. A hundred of Curt. A dozen of Mandy herself, including a few sketches he'd done himself. A newspaper on the floor, opened to an image that seems tame in comparison to things he ended up doing with one of the figures depicted.

The door, blocked by a chair, crashes open, and before he can react--even though he knows what's coming--he's staggering from the force of the blow to his face, blood trickling down his nose.]

You bring shame to this house. You bring shame to your mother and me.

[Shuddering, Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, the low, threatening growl of his father's voice spilling down his back like ice water. He can't see through the tears, but he hears it all, the words just as cruel as the striking hand.]

It's a filthy, shameful thing you're doing--DO YOU HEAR ME?

[smileslie]

[if the change in the room hadn't immediately raised her hackles, the tone of Arthur's voice would have. She'd gathered enough to know he hadn't had the luxury she had of her parents' more or less silently letting her slip out of their lives outside of the very rare letter or phone call with none of them openly speaking about why even though they all knew, but she hadn't let herself consider that his remarks about what his father would have done if he'd been seen in makeup were things he had. Even though she'd seen the marks of similar violence on so many other people, she'd refused to consider it happening to Arthur. And she tries to believe eventhen that it had just been like the few shouting matches she'd had with her mother when she left school, when she'd gotten tired of being told she was just 'too friendly' with the other girls and needed to find a nice boy.

But of course it's nothing that compartively gentle. And while she'd seen this violence inflicted on her friends by drunken strangers more times than she'd like to count, it had never been personal the way this is. Which is why it makes her blood boil differently than those encounters had. She was used to stepping between friends reeling from broken noses and the cocky asshole who had done it, startling them with the fact a girl was suddenly in their face and swinging her bag at them. She'd never actually been the witness to what had left some kids hanging near the Sombrero with barely-packed bags slung over their shoulders and fresh bruises, and knowing about it and seeing it were entirely different things.

Her reflex reaction is nearly the same, though, which is good because all her mind is capable of is an inarticulate string of curses she'd really like to scream at this spectre even knowing it wouldn't change a thing. But her body moves on its own, catching Arthur and just barely touching her hand against the back of his head, dropping her voice in a way very few people ever get to hear]

He's wrong. There's nothing you could have possibly done that could have harmed anyone, particularly him, unless he was already that damn insecure in who he is.

[tangleofgarlands]

[If he could think clearly through the swirl of painful memory, Arthur might think it was funny how little it took to drag him from his ponced-up playacting at confidence straight back down to the quivering, frightened child he'd been.

He'd tried to shove it all down, tried to convince itself that it wouldn't do to dwell on something that wasn't a part of his life anymore--and for a while, it had worked. Surrounding himself with like-minded friends, nearly all of whom shared a similar story, but none of them had been able to bring themselves to talk about it with each other. For a while, knowing had been enough.

But it seems that all of the time he's spent avoiding this particular memory is coming back with a furious vengeance. Every detail seems to stand out in vicious clarity, oversaturated and nearly cartoonish, and he wonders if Mandy sees it the same way or if it's just his own mind torturing him with details he'd tried to forget.

Mandy. Mandy's here with him--the thought blinks up at him like a beacon as he lands, not hunched over by himself with his trousers open, but against her. His knees sag and before he can think about it, he's winding his arms around her neck and burying his face in her shoulder. The blood isn't real; it won't stain her clothes, and he feels like he might go underwater if he doesn't hold onto that one piece of brightness.

There's a derisive scoffing sound from behind him, right when Mandy says the word nothing; Arthur clings to the reassurance, but it's not enough, not with that voice still ringing in his ears.]

Am I wrong? Is it nothing that your poor mother can't go to the grocer without the neighbors whispering about you? Is it nothing that you've destroyed this family's reputation with your filth?

[He's wrong. He's wrong. He's not real. He's wrong.

She's not even there, but Arthur can still remember the look on his mum's face when she'd come running at the shouts. Shock, grief, smoothed over with a detached numbness.

But Mandy's still there, her hand gentle against the back of his head, and he takes in a shaky breath.]

I was--I was just--I was just having a bloody wank, by myself, with my door shut and the music playing. That's all I was doing.

[It feels a little more like a plea than he'd intended, but with the panic and the pain in his nose and the humiliation trying to claw it back down and keep it from his mouth, he can't manage to say it with any confidence.]

[smileslie]

[it's desperately fucked up that, even years after she'd stopped going out to the clubs and places where it was far more common to have to help someone get cleaned up because it was better than dealing with the sodding police, Mandy still doesn't have to think about how to keep someone from full out collapsing and getting them mostly back on their feet. But she's actually, for one of the first times since she's been here, thinking about the other reasons she's had to do it lately back home for men who weighed less than Arthur.

She's more aware of his unreal bleeding than her own, and it makes it harder not to whirl on that awful thing that she's sure is a more realistic represenation than what her mind had turned Brian into, but this is one time when egging the bastard on by asking if he'd do the same thing to a girl wouldn't do a damn thing. So instead, she bites her tongue for a second before nodding, resting her head against Arthur's]

I know. You're more than any prick like that could ever be. If this could ruin his reputation, what was it worth before? And you've got a hell of a lot more guts, going out there the way you want to be instead of what all of them think you should be. That's hardly the sort of thing anyone does on a whim. And who would have known what you were doing in your own home, if he hadn't said anything about it? This says more about him than it ever could about you.

[if it weren't their own damn lives, Mandy would laugh at the ridiculous symmetry of their respective shadows, what she knows they're saying. As it is, she's fairly certain that she'll still come to back in the temple with, at the very least, marks in her palms where she's been digging in her nails and face sore from grinding her teeth]