hfm_logs | Don't camp the spawn point [CLOSED]

Warnings: Potential violence
Location: Atop the spire
Characters: Peridot, Greg Universe, eventually Agent Washington
When: The day after their deaths/disappearance, respectively
Summary: So, we got murdered. How 'bout that.

Everything hurt.

Greg registered that fact, before even registering he was awake. All parts of him ached just for being in existence, not the least of which was the throbbing in his head, muddying his thoughts from processing anything more than how deeply uncomfortable it was to be--

--alive.

He tried to open his eyes, and was met with further assault on his being, light attacking him and blurring out the world. He groaned, and felt it rattle through his chest in a piercing burn. The sound choked out with a whimper, and he curled on himself a little. Was he really alive? Was this how it was supposed to feel? Or was this actually just how things turned out, after...? Sucking in a breath, he felt newly-repaired lungs complaining for the effort, and Greg creaked his eyes open again.

It was... a nice place. Bright, and clean, and green, and... familiar. Greg blinked, and attempted sitting up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea. Oh wow, everything is terrible. Why is everything so terrible in such a nice place. Oooorgh. He curled in on himself further, waiting for the illness to pass, or at least lessen. It took a long time.

This was the spire, right? The garden on top. He had only been here once before, the months ago when he'd arrived. Since then, he'd only been to the lower levels, checking to see if missing friends had ended up like Wash had said. Slowly, carefully, Greg looked down to his chest. Even as it throbbed with sharp pain, it was in perfect condition. No wound, no scar, not even a bruise. Just like Wash had said, after all. So he really had...

For a long time, Greg didn't move. His brain was running in circles, trying to process all that happened, to remember it, to forget it. He'd died. He'd died. And now he wasn't dead. Regenerated. Weakly, he felt fingers nudging at his stomach, just making sure. Eventually, he gave sitting up another try--a creaky, queasy process, but successful in the end. It was necessary, just to properly take stock of everything, ensure he hadn't spawned a new haircut or outfit or something. But no, everything looked just the same as ever. He kept finding himself gingerly rubbing at his chest, double and triple checking that really nothing was there. Clean, smooth, kinda hairy, untouched skin.

He'd died, and he was back. And that meant... everything was fine? Was that how it was? That's how the Gems did it. It didn't even phase them. And here he was, good as new. So he should feel. Okay. Everything was... okay. He just had to go back to living, like nothing had happened. Return to his apartment, to his girlfriend, to--

"Rose--ooohohoooo, ow, oh, okay, no..."

Getting up too quickly brought another crash of vertigo, and his knees buckled under the effort, leaving him reeling on the ground again. Rose didn't know. Rose had seen--he was a human, she didn't know, she'd think... he'd left her to think the worst, he should have warned her. Even now that he was awake, he couldn't even get up, could hardly even move to let her know. He couldn't keep leaving her waiting. Damn it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She was about to ask Greg to explain. These farts were clearly something she needed to be aware of for the future. She hadn't even been sure humans HAD any natural defenses.

But then...

Oh yes, him. The rude one. Even Peridot knows that if she admits what she did to Greg it probably won't go over so well. She's not even sure what to do after this. Considering the way Rose makes allies, killing her human has probably put her on the radar of more than one powerful person. This isn't completely unfamiliar territory for her, but she's not sure how a human will react compared to a Gem.

"We are clearly talking." She cleared her throat. It seems like a safe answer, but she can't keep the suspicion out of her face. "What are you doing here?"

"W...Wash!"

Greg jumped at his friend's voice. He hadn't expected to see anyone else up here, and his brain scrambled to put together why he'd be there, concern and relief fighting for dominance. It made sense, Wash knew about this place, knew where to come looking. Except for his asking why they were here. So then, for him to be with them...

He staggered to his feet, wobbling slightly. "Are--are you okay? What happened?"

Right. This was how conversations with Peridot went. He hadn't missed this. "Wow, it's almost like I figured that out myself and joined your conversation!"

Greg's response was cause for more concern. He wasn't stable, and the sinking feeling that Wash knew why was only getting more pronounced. He headed over to Greg, reaching out to steady him. "I wound up back on Chorus. Turned out the civil war was a ruse covering up planetary genocide by a large corporation, and the merc who said he was an ally was actually a raging sociopath with a penchant for stabbing people." Wash shrugged. The amount of nonchalance with which he could deliver that information said something about the state of his life; he wasn't sure he wanted to think about what exactly that was. "So the past few months have been fun."

But this wasn't about him. "Now I think it's your turn to answer that question."

"Well, I don't recall inviting you," Peridot, too, managed to get to her feet, taking a few steps back from the two of them. If she registered Wash's explanation for his absence, it didn't show on her face beyond a slightly pursed lip and raised eyebrow. Planetary genocide did interest her, but there was no way she was going to get the whole story from him, now or possibly ever.

Her eyes were on Greg, except when they darted to the sides of the garden looking for escape routes. She was going to have to be ready to run. He was going to spill the beans. His actions during the fight had shown fairly clearly he didn't know what was good for him. How much could he care about what was good for her?

"Uhh. That's, ah. You've been. Busy. That's... huh." He rubbed at his neck, filing that all away under "very important things I don't understand." It was a very big mental file.

Months, though...? How long had he been out? Wash had mentioned, once, something about time moving differently between home and here, but now that he thought of it he hadn't actually checked if he'd been out an hour or a year.

The moment of confusion (one in a very long line of moments) was pushed aside for yet another moment of distress. Wash didn't know. He had to explain--but what could he say? He hardly wanted to put it in words himself, and Peridot... Greg cast a small, anxious glance at her, then to the ground.

"There... there was a... an accident." That's what it was, after all. Even that vague description, however, made his stomach twist. He didn't want to think about it. The less he said, the better. "We... we both made a mistake, and..."

That look to Peridot, and Peridot's nervousness, did not go unnoticed. Greg's halting explanation only made things worse. "And you died," Wash finished, calmly as he could. That wasn't the whole story - there was no way that was the whole story - but...

But he remembered just how badly dying had fucked him up. It was another set of nightmares he'd never be able to forget. And if that had happened to Greg - worried, sensitive, not mentally suited for that kind of trauma Greg...

Priorities. Triage first; explanation later. "Do you think you can handle the stairs?"

He...hadn't told him. Peridot's look changed to one of intense confusion. "Accident" wasn't inaccurate, but it didn't near cover exactly what happened. Surely Wash wasn't a comrade to her, he would have no trouble taking her out in her weakened state but...

Greg still hadn't told him.

Peridot was entertaining the idea that this might be a set-up. They both seemed to know that dying wasn't permanent. Perhaps Greg had died to bring her up where the other could take her out but...no. No, that didn't seem to be what was happening. This was simply...coincidence? Strangely apropos coincidence, but still coincidence?

This was the strangest thing that had happened yet.

The two humans seemed to have everything covered, or more precisely, Wash was paying more attention to Greg then her. Going with them increased the chance of Greg telling him everything which increased the chance of Wash killing her. She took two more experimental steps backwards. Perhaps she could just...quietly leave and figure this out by herself.

Wash finished the thought, so he wouldn't have to. The words were out there, now. Greg didn't say anything. Wash was perceptive enough not to need the confirmation.

Shifting his weight, testing his legs, he gave a small nod. "Sure... yeah, I think so. Peri--"

He glanced back again, choking on her name. Ah. She was backing off. Greg couldn't deny, it was a bit of a relief. All this was... more than he'd bargained for, to say the least.

He swallowed around the queasy lump in his throat. "Take... take care of yourself, okay...?"

By this point, Wash was having a pretty hard time believing whatever had happened had been an accident. Peridot's expressions and behavior (could she be less subtle?) pretty much sealed that deal - there was more to this story than Wash knew. He'd find out eventually; for now, there were a good number of stairs between them and where they needed to go.

"Come on," he said, wrapping an arm around Greg's waist. The stairs were wide enough for two abreast, and odds were good that Greg would eventually need the support.

Don't camp the spawn point [CLOSED]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject