Greg Universe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
panspermia) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hfm_logs2015-09-10 12:52 am
panspermia) wrote in hfm_logs2015-09-10 12:52 am
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.
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.
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Wash fell silent, listening to Casey and Greg. Casey was right - Casey had made the point he was trying to make, but at a much lower volume. And Greg...Greg always knew what to say, didn't he.
He'd been in an active war zone for too long, spent too much time with whom a point made at top volume was a point that got heard and for whom arguing about just about everything regardless of the situation was the norm - it was almost part of their charm.
Here, it was just fucking it up. He needed to remember that. He needed to switch gears, to remember that the last stand of a genocidal war was a world away and that world was well beyond his reach right now, that here was a different group and a different dynamic and a different skill set that he was very much behind on-
He needed to sleep - actual sleep, not one-eye-open half-alert 'sleep' that was really just killing time between missions. It had been a long goddamn time since he'd had actual sleep. Hell, maybe it would help.
Plus, if Casey was making more sense than he was, obviously there was something wrong. Sleep might fix that.
He stayed quiet, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. If Casey and Greg were making sense, he probably shouldn't interrupt them.
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Anyway, the next move was entirely on Rose. He'd softened her up so that Greg could move in for the kill. But, you know. In a good way.
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She's definitely not happy about it, but she's not going to dictate what Greg can and can't do. Even if she's terrified that the same thing might happen all over again. "We can start working on practice together soon. But... until then... just try and stay out of trouble, okay? And please, stay away from Peridot. I doubt that you're the only one that's back if that's how these things work, and she's not someone that can be reasoned with."
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When Rose brought up Peridot, though... Greg's smile strained a bit. "Yeah. About that... she uh. She's definitely back."
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