brother_alone | Learning to Walk Again (openish thread)

Winter held Joshua's hands while he recovered. It drove away every distraction that would stop him from doing what it took to survive. It saved his life. When he was strong enough to climb out of the ravine he'd been thrown into it lead him to his first tracks in the snow. It gave him the cover he needed to secure his first kill.

Winter could not stay forever.

With it gone and Joshua once more in control of himself, things aren't as easy as they were. He often waits until the hunger gets to be maddening before he lets himself hunt. It's easier that way, keeps him from thinking about what he's doing. About clawed hands rending hide and sinew apart as sure as his fangs drew blood. If he thinks he hesitates. Ends up getting hurt and losing his meal. He's still getting used to all of this. He doesn't like it, but he's surviving.

It's the time spent in between hunts that's the worst. Time when his mind is brutally clear. He scrubs himself as clean as he can get in those moments. Laments over everything that's brought him here. The tiny shack in the woods he once used to call home has become so again. Still nothing more than four walls and a dirt floor but it's his. A place where he can retreat to when stronger hunters are nearby. A tiny territory all his own for him to claim.

It's lonely. It's hard. But it's home.

((Open to Josh's friends if they'd like to catch up with him.))

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The flannel is faded and stained by blood, dirt, and grass but its owner has done his best to wash it as best as he can with only the stream to use. Joshua still isn't tall when he stands up straight, perhaps only an inch or two larger than he used to be. His limbs are just a little bit too long now and he's so very thin. Thinner than he ever was even at his worst. The grimy clothing hangs off of him unnaturally.

But his hair is still a mess of dark curls. His eyes still green, though one has turned a rather milky shade.

"I nnngh...I don't. I don't do that." Not to people at any rate. When he pulls his hands away from his face there can be no mistaking him for anyone else. Though it's obvious that something has happened.

"Guessss I shouldn't be surprised people would come looking."

It's a curious sensation, that sudden surge of hopefulness followed by an immediate nosedive. It leaves Caspar feeling a bit nauseous. It's Josh, even though his instincts are screaming that this is not his friend before him, this is something else.

A predator.

But Cylons don't acknowledge fear. They certainly don't accept the little irrational voice that worries about monsters hiding in the closet or under the bed. That's a human thing. He takes a few breaths, steadying himself. "Josh," he says finally. "Goddammit, Josh, of course people would come looking. We thought you died. What the hell happened?"

The "to you" is left unspoken, but it's there. Truthfully, Caspar looks a little lost. He wants to accept the fact that Josh is back, to call him an asshole for making everyone worry, to poke fun at his flannel shirt and then get him a new one.

But he can't. Not until he has some answers.

"Because thisssss is a better thing to know about than me being dead? I might as well be."

One hand has to cling much more gently around himself lest he shred his own clothing with the razor sharp claws he has on one hand. The other hand isn't much better but isn't as grotesquely altered. His hands wrap around himself protectively but it's to keep him from twitching. He can still smell where the food was and it's distracting. Not horribly so--he's eaten recently enough.

"I sure as hell ain't going back to the Plaza. Too many people." Too much risk. To himself and others. Even if the AV field protected someone he tried to attack those same people who fought off those aliens would then turn onto him. And shouldn't they?

He's a monster.

"Better for everyone if I keep to myself."

"Oh, because that's a solid plan. Not like anyone might accidentally come across you like I just did, right?"

It's easier to focus on his own annoyance than on the peculiar way Josh is curled up around himself, or the length of those claws. It reminds him too much of those zombies on Azeroth, but they were mindless. Undead only in the most basic of definitions. Josh can't be so far gone as all that.

If he is... then this really is worse than being dead. And he's not willing to believe that. Not yet.

"And what is this, exactly? Did someone do this to you?"

"Maybe I ssshould mark out my territory then. Start putting Skulls on ssssticks."

It's half sarcasm but it's as close to being himself as Joshua's gotten since his ordeal. More than anything he just looks resigned in this moment. Tired. There were no good options and he's never been the bravest of men. Honestly doesn't think he can be blamed for just keeping to himself, either.

"I don't know." It's not the whole truth but it is most of it. All Joshua can remember was the pain he was in. It was taken away but in its place was hunger. And a drive to survive at all costs. Ironic, really. "I wasss dying."

The sarcasm helps. It reassures Caspar that Josh is still Josh on some level. His shoulders relax a little while his lips pull into a half-smirk. "It'd be a start, but knowing this place, you'd probably end up attracting a skull fetishist."

It's not much of an answer, but Caspar doesn't push it. He knows what it's like to suddenly be something else, with no choice except to adapt to it. So he forces himself to take a closer look at Josh's physical changes, to assess how much of a threat he now is to the people he cares about.

God. What is he going to tell Adia?

"So now you have to hunt to survive?" He thinks of Princess in her poké ball. "How overwhelming is it? You're talking to me just fine. Is it because it's me, or that you think I'd taste bad, or something else?"

"About the only kind of action I'm gonna get, with a mug like thissss."

It's not like his prospects were good before with his weird looking eyes and face. But now? Well, it's so laughably out of the question that Joshua hasn't even given it a shred of thought until now. He doesn't really see friends as an option anymore. Not with the normal folks out there at any rate. Anything else may as well be fantasy.

"Better animals than what a wendigo typically eats, bro." And oh, one small word that nearly brings tears to his eyes for the sense of not being alone he feels, if only for a moment. "I hunt anything that's in my turf. Not people. Never....people." He can't change how he ended up this way but he can keep some shred of his humanity now that he's in control. "So long as I do it regularly, thisss. Talking with you? It's not so hard."

The sad part is Caspar can't even make a quip about it because Josh is right. Who would let themselves get close to that mess of exposed jaw and jagged teeth? At least Caspar can hide the worst of himself behind a blank face and a sharp suit. Josh doesn't have that option anymore.

He's never heard the term "wendigo" before, but he commits it to memory, resolving to look it up when he has a chance. "Glad to know I'm not being a conversational burden," he says dryly, but there's a hint of relief there. Never people. Of course, that rule leaves a lot of wiggle room. Not every creature in the Wilds has the base nature of a typical animal. He just has to hope that they know enough to stay out of Josh's way.

"You're got neighbors," he says quietly. "The Fallen, those alien robots who were looting and killing during the storm. There's a dinosaur, too, but he's intelligent." Super hunting skills or not, he has a feeling that Josh would lose to Indoraptor, so it's probably best for both of them that they stay out of each other's way.

"If you can talk with people without losing your shit, then maybe you don't have to hide up here 24/7." A pause, and then he asks, "What do you want me to say to Adia? I can't not tell her about this."

"I know about the..." And Joshua has to cut himself off with a tiny glance over his shoulder, as if they were somehow here inside his little turf. This little safe space he's carved out for himself. Joshua remembers all too well the giant Fallen nearly snapping his neck when she grabbed him off of his speeder. The rush of air and the Pain that followed for so long because of her tossing him off the cliff side. "I know about th'Fallen. They haven't come near."

And if they did, Joshua would hide. They did this to him. What more they could do if they wanted he doesn't want to know.

"It'ssss not a good idea though. It takes a lot of control when there's so much--" Prey. "Movement around. Voices. I'm ssstill getting used to it." And of course. Of course Caspar mentions Adia. How can he not? The woman with the handmade Medusa costume he helped put makeup on. The friend he's had and not deserved for so long. Adia is one of a handful of people that Joshua's chest hurts to even think about having them see him like this. His non mangled hand clutches at his worn clothes. Tears prick at his right eye.

"I wish she didn't have to know." Shame coats Joshua's voice. "I don't want her to see me....like thisss."

Caspar doesn't react. He's not about to pick a fight with the Fallen, either, but he's not afraid of them. Maybe he'd feel differently if he'd been one of their victims, too, but so far as he's concerned, they're just another group of assholes.

He's glad to see Josh taking his warning seriously, though.

His stomach twists uncomfortably at the way Josh reacts, both out of guilt and a sharp sense of empathy. He knows all too well what it's like to hide out of shame. To hide from Adia, especially. But it was a question he had to ask. He's done hiding things from her out of a noble but ultimately misplaced desire to protect her. Josh is her friend, she deserves the right to know.

"Yeah..." He fusses with the cuffs of his blazer, ill at ease with this conundrum. "I'll... I'll tell her that you don't want her to visit for a while." Not never, because there's no way she'll accept that. "Can she text you? Or did you lose your PINpoint?"

"I've got it. Just need to charge it."

In the shack, where it can't be damaged by Joshua's hunting or cleaning up from it. Another item he hadn't known whether to keep or throw away. The part of him that desperately hates the thought of being truly alone made him keep onto it up till now.

"I need..time. I"m still learning how to be...thisss. How to survive and hunt. Stay as much of myself as I can."

"Why don't you go ahead and do that, and then ping me when you feel up to it." He's not going to push Josh if he's not ready, but he's not about to let the Canadian frak off into the wilderness, either.

He looks over Josh again -- really looks at him. Takes in the teeth and claws and other deformities. If he's going to stay Josh's friend, he's got to get used to his new face. There's no way around it. "Is there anything else you need? I know you're not straying far from home these days, but there's no reason you have to keep wearing the same clothes over and over."

He can see the wear and tear on the fabric, the bloodstains that aren't coming out. If he has to hunt, can't he at least hunt in style?

The clothes he had been thrown off the cliff in have definitely seen better days. Joshua doesn't take them off save to clean them and always puts them on soaking wet again right away. Out of disgust for himself and a pervasive fear that if he doesn't remind himself that he was human once, he'll fall further down the rabbit hole until he's just like the wendigo from his nightmares.

Just like Hannah ended up.

"I gotta head to th'plaza to do it. But I will." It's a good way to make him get his nerve up to mingle around other people. "Y..yeah. I'm gonna have to...get something that fits me better soon here."

No matter how much he eats Joshua can't hold onto weight anymore. He knows he looks more emaciated than anyone who survived the winter despite how strong those bony limbs are. It's just one more part of his change.

Caspar knows the importance of clothes and identity. If the clothes are helping him from going completely feral, then what happens when this set is worn through? No, he needs new clothes. It might be tricky finding something that will fit on that gaunt, emaciated frame, but Caspar also knows a good tailor if there's nothing available off the rack.

"Contact me when you do. Alright? Don't let some rando choose your new wardrobe." His sharp insistence is a mask for how anxious he feels. Let him help, Josh. Let him at least do something.

Edited (leaving out words :() Date: 2019-05-22 06:20 pm (UTC)

Worn and stained as they are, the clothes are his. A reminder of the man Joshua was before Winter. The person who doesn't want to hurt anyone else important to him. There's a lot more of those out there in the Nexus than he'd like to admit. People he wants to protect from himself.

"It'sss a date. Promise." Caspar won't underestimate Josh or the danger he poses, would he? It would be okay if he went with the other. Maybe. Either way the prospect feels a little less scary. "But I'm getting a flannel shirt." Whatever else they get is fine but this...Joshua doesn't want to lose sight of this. Of himself adrift in whatever it is he's become.

Caspar exhales a very put-upon sigh. If he couldn't get Josh to stop wearing flannel when he was human, he's not going to argue over it now that he's something else, and deep down, he knows that Josh needs that connection to his past, as unfashionable as it is. "Fine. But I'm drawing the line at ugly sweaters."

No, he won't underestimate the danger Josh. Not with the way the hair on the back of his neck continues to prickle.

His PINpoint beeps, and he pulls it out, although there is a second-long lag when he has to fight his instinct to take his gaze off Josh so he can read the incoming task. A quick glance and then he puts it away. "I gotta go. You text me when you're ready to re-enter civilization, okay?"