xistentia | 02 🍆 SO PARDON ME WHILE I BURST INTO FLAMES

Characters: Joseph Kavinsky & CR
Summary: First, Kavinsky is hassling Loki Odinson into taking a care ride with him. Some time later, Kavinsky is running away from his problems and straight into a vampire-consuming ball of fire called the first light of dawn, when a handsome blue-skinned bandito appears out of nowhere (because he can teleport).
Date(s): One fine mORNING in late January 2018
Warnings/Notes: Burning, graphic description of pain; mentions of past drug use, etc.

closed to Loki;

[it's not by prearrangement that the dream thief finds the god of mischief. mere coincidence with a dash of luck, and the fact that there's only so much to do in a population of a few thousand, especially when your magical biology programs you for a distinct inclination into staying up deep into the nights when other people are asleep. it's not like the place is big enough for timezones. there's a slight overlap between nocturnal creatures and people who, as a matter of course, happen to live on the edge. and who's edgier than loki odinson!

not that kavinsky thinks of it that way, of course. mostly, he's driving around in a fast car with his dog-shaped daemon scuffing around in the back seat, when his headlights flash over the demigod's tall, narrow frame. in a blink of an eye, or the twist of a steering wheel, the dream thief is pulling over to the slick stretch of sidewalk that loki is measuring out with his stride. buzzing the window down as he decelerates.]

Hey, sweetheart, [he calls out, grinning, the shit-eating kind, but all white fangs and gaunt cheeks. he peers out at loki, his heavy eyelids half-mast. he looks like some turd lord frat boy with an excess of designer tattoos-- fire bird blossoming on the side of his neck, skulls peeking out of his arm, under the short sleeves. vampires don't worry about winter weather.] You wanna come for that ride?

closed to Kurt;

[it starts with kavinsky running. he isn't running to any particular place— there's sixty miles of woods out here, and all of it seems repetitive. it wouldn't take long to run in a straight line, but you know woods. trees. trolls. now and then, he's also running from things like that— monsters, creatures of the wood.

at some point, he also runs from his daemon. she's annoying as fuck— warning him two hours before sunrise, then an hour. then forty minutes. she won't shut up, so he leaves her, earphones in, secondary media device blaring what passes for rap in xistentia into his skull. he can get home in ten minutes. he knows. he's done it before, hopping mossy trunks and cutting through rows of corn fields. once he hits the outer roads, he knows the way. it's easy. he doesn't need the fucking dog; she always catches up to him at home.

but there's something about shame and longing and grief and loneliness, which are also things that he is running from, invisible but powerful nonetheless, that have a way of dilating time, more than any drug that he used to take to medicate away those feelings. and he doesn't know, he doesn't notice, until the heat starts to seep through the blue air of pre-dawn, like summer warmth, except pain flares in his next step and

then

he's swearing, bolting, slamming up against a tree, fleeing into the tall shadow of the next one, his eyes roving the woods in a panic, disoriented by his own terror. pain starts at the edge of his shoulder. and like a child, he begins brokenly to cry.]

Threaded | Flat

[Nightcrawler's taken to exploring the forest when his thoughts get the better of him. The area is quiet, except for nature's occasional bird-call or rustling from an animal darting by. He sighs, watches the steam rise and dissipate within a few seconds, his tail dreamily flicking side to side. Thankfully, being high enough up, he doesn't seem all that bothered by the wildlife.

Shebad is at his side, draped lazily over the tree branch they're both perched on, her synthesized voice doing a great impression of a deep purr. He spares the daemon a glance, lips quirking in amusement as he reaches over with one hand to give her back a full-length, languid stroke.

He adjusts his position, stretches both legs out and nudges her with a boot. She cracks an eye open, unamused by his antics, although when he opens his arms, the ocelot promptly crawls forward and plops against him. A slight oomph escapes, but after they're both settled, he thumps the back of his head against the trunk, lets his eyes flutter shut. Then, just as he's beginning to enter a more meditative state, an exclamation of pain makes his eyes open right back up. If he'd ever heard the noise before from Kavinsky, perhaps it might have been familiar, but he's never been in any situation like that with him.

With a gentle push, Kurt urges the feline away, rolls off the edge of the limb to land on the ground below. A vague gesture of his hand beckons her and once she's down, they're both rushing toward the noise.] Kavinsky? [he asks, worry clear in his voice when he breaks through the spanse of trees. The smell of burning flesh makes him cringe, an arm raising and pressing over his face. What in the world is that? and then Oh, my God— Kavinsky's a vampire!

His instincts take over and without a second thought, he whips the coat he's wearing off and sprints closer, throwing the jacket over Kavinsky's head and yanking it around his upper-half.] What are you doing? [or in other words: "the sun's coming up, fool!"]

[ Loki surveys the vehicle with amusement. He's dressed in a suit, a green scarf draped over his shoulders. ]

Why, yes. I do in fact, feel ready for a ride.

[ He opens the door and sidles himself in, looking pleased. ]

kneeslides into this thread

i'm here i'm here!!