2021-12-11 - Screaming into a pillow

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : Yo. Scream at me. I need to know I'm alive.

(TXT to Ravn Perdita) Isi : What the fuck happened? Are you bleeding?

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : Actually.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : [blurry selfie of what looks like tooth marks on someone's neck]

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : No. But close enough.

(TXT to Ravn Perdita) Isi : If that's the kind of shit you get up to in the bedroom you know I don't want to know, right? But seriously - why don't you come over. My heater is working.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : I'm drunk as fuck. And terrified. You sure?

(TXT to Ravn Perdita) Isi : I'll order you an uber.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : I have leeeeegs. I can walk. Elm, right?

(TXT to Ravn Perdita) Isi : If you're drunk get in the fucking car or I swear I will beat you with my cast.

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : Yay, more bruises.

(TXT to Ravn Perdita) Isi : If you say 'I like it' so help me god

(TXT to Isi Perdita) Ravn : I have fucking neuropathy, believe me when I say, getting hit is the last fucking thing I want.

Isi's place is literally noting to look at. Typical Elm. The house has been subdivided into smaller places for renting, and Isi's unit is in that corner over there. The main window is covered up with a sheet of plywood. "Are you sure about this dude?" asks the uber driver as it crunches up to Isi's doorway.

"Yeah. She's scarier than anything out here." Ravn pays him and exits the car, letting the poor guy wonder what the hell that's supposed to mean. He's probably not sorry to get rid of that ride anyway; tall guy all in black, pale as a sheet, more than a little drunk, smells like tequila and whiskey and sweat. And really, if there's now a swinger club or kink palace on Elm, who's genuinely surprised?

He walks up to the door and tries to find out where the hell he's going. Cameron, Cameron, Cameron, Come On.

(TXT to Ravn Isi) Perdita : I'm on my way.

Without a front window it IS hard to try to figure out who is stalking outside - but thankfully Uber does that thing where it goes "You have arrived! I take your money now kthanks" which narrows it down. Only once the car has crunched back up the road does she open her doorway and peek out. Seeing only one drunk Dane she opens the doorway and points inward. "In."

With Isi's paycheck you WOULD think she'd live in a nicer place, right? There are two rooms in the place, both little more than closets themselves, a living room and a kitchenette. (Not a full kitchen because who needs ~that~) The furniture is well worn in and clearly second-hand. Touches of Isi's culture lay here and there in the form of blankets now faded from their once bright colored history, and a few things with feathers that hold meaning just for her.

She stays by the doorway since Perdita's on the way, alas, without a helpful app telling Isi when she'll arrive, and wave her hand in front of her face. "Fuck, how much... " a sniff of the air as he passes, "whatever the fuck that is, did you drink?"

"Too much," the Dane murmurs. "'Mnot used to tequila. Or mind links. 'Scuse me. Got a bathroom?"

No, you do not want to ask what sounds ensue. Let's just say that what goes in must come out, from one end or the other, and he probably wishes he'd brought a toothbrush. But as he made his way there, noticing just about nothing whatsoever of the interior decor, he dropped something -- a bright blue velvet pet collar with a little bell on. And on it, embroidered in silver, GOOD BOY.

It doesn't take long for Perdita to show up, her hair a halo of dark curls in the street lights as she gets out of her car. A knit jumper, denim cut offs, and a pair of knit stockings that stop a mere inch before the shorts, and, miracle of miracles, a sensible pair of sneakers.

She heads towards Isi's place with only a little hesitation, a little wariness in how she moves. It's not her neighborhood, after all, and it's hard to tell if someone's screaming at you or the dog who won't stop barking in the distance. "Do I even want to know?" she asks the other woman, tilting her head to one side.

"Hell if I know," Isi replies, looking Perdita up and down, just to stay in theme. Once Perdita's inside the doorway Isi shuts it behind them. It was dark outside and it's not a whole lot better in here. There is a single lamp over there in the corner, but no overhead light, and the kitchen light is off.

"He looks like he just drank away his paycheck and is now wants to deposit said paycheck into the toilet." Fancy way of saying he's throwing up, and she jerks her head towards the toilet.

"Figured if he wants screaming people are less likely to come check here than where you two live."

It takes a moment for Ravn to re-emerge. When he does, he's red-faced in the fashion of someone who scrubbed his face in cold water after sticking it in the toilet bowl; some half-assed attempt to make himself feel a little better. He's borrowed a towel, and is still wringing out his hair into it; the cold water and the half-open shirt do nothing to reveal those visible red marks on his neck -- like something bit him, though not hard enough to actually pierce the skin.

He spots the blue object. He picks it up and stares at it. Then he tosses it in the general direction of a waste basket -- which, in his drunk perception, might be anywhere -- and plops himself down on the nearest available horisontal surface. "Fuck, I had a night."

The curly haired young woman nods and sighs, absently running a hand through her hair, which takes a bit of effort, what with the messy curls and all. "That explains the stench of tequila and self hatred, at least. I was hoping it wasn't you." there's a wry smile at Isi, at that.

"Shit, Ravn, did... did somebody hurt you?" Perdita asks, glancing toward Isi as if to say 'do you believe this shit?' before turning back to him, moving forward to examine the man with a worried expression. "How bad is it?"

Perdita gets a mute rise of Isi's shoulders - she has no idea what happened to have Ravn like ~this~.

Ew - that's a vomit faced person on her sofa. Isi makes a face and heads for her kitchenette to fill up a glass of water for him. Bringing it over she holds it out. "You send me a picture of like, teeth marks. So yeah, what the fuck happened?"

"He didn't bite me hard." This is important, right? Face down on the sofa doesn't really help the man's Danish accent. "He bit off the collar. And carried me. All over Europe."

Maybe there's still a bit too much tequila in his system. He sits up and tries to -- fill in the blanks. "Mind link. We were in my mind, or in his mind, or whatever, I have no fucking idea. And he was this giant big damn wolf. This collar, it went into the Hudson, why is it here."

"Ravn, you have visible bite marks on your neck. I like it kinky but this is a bit much even for me. Who the hell bit you?" Perdita kneels in front of Ravn, glancing at Isi with raised eyebrows. Oh, hey, people can see eyebrows when you don't have a thick faux fringe in your face. "Do you have any ice? He's going to bruise like a damn peach."

"Uhm..." Isi ponders and heads back to her kitchenette. Ice seems to be in low supply as she stares into her tiny freezer until inspiration strikes.

"One moment," she doesn't bother to put on a coat as she grabs a rag and goes outside. There is a loud crack of something hitting the house, and then another that sounds like shattering glass. In comes Isi holding the remains of an icicle. This is presented to Dita.

"He carried me." Ravn seems to find this to be important. "Because I was a cat. And he was a fucking big wolf. Who was on fire. De la Vega. He's a fire wolf in his own mind. And I'm my mother's goddamn inbred Siamese who died from eating peace lilies, and those mind links are a pure and utter mindfuck. Don't do it. Not even if they tell you it's sexy as hell. I'm sure it is, I'm sure sex while mind linked is just great but holy shit, no, way too close, you have no idea, I thought I was going to die."

"I... really hope that was ice, and not the roof." Dita whispers to no one in particular. It's not like she can judge Isi's living situation, most of her property is in much worse shape.

"Jesus, why does everyone let Ruiz chew on them in this damn town? He's not that hot." Perdita asks as she stands, getting a dish towel or wash rag or something and wrapping the ice up in it. "Thank you." she tells Isi, softly, with a smile.

"You're not dead, but if you don't roll over before I have to roll you over you might wish you were. This needs to go on your neck. Or your forehead, I'm not sure which is kinder for you, trying to prevent a hangover or trying to prevent the world's worst hickey... not that anyone will probably see it, Mr. Turtleneck."

"Is... mind link as fucked up as I imagine...?" Which Ravn promptly answers. Yes, yes it is.

"Wait, his? I thought you didn't fuck - let alone fuck guys? Ruiz?" Isi, very confused and will just stand there and flutter in place.

"I didn't have sex with de la Vega, goddamnit." Ravn groans and makes a visible effort to pull his thoughts together. "We were talking. About the power -- he can do things I wish I could do. And he wanted to show me -- the mind link. See what's in here." He taps a gloved finger to his forehead.

"Roll. Over." Perdita tells Ravn. She doesn't reach to roll him over, yet, but her tone is more authoritative now. "Drunk herding should be an Olympic sport." she mutters.

"No, you let him link your mind to his mind, then he put his wolf mouth around your kitty-neck. Do you see how that's way more intimate than just mashing genitals together?" Dita asks. Of course, Dita thinks of sex as barely a shade more intimate than a handshake, so...

"And you walked away more fucked up. Adding that to the list of reasons...." list of what exactly Isi doesn't say. She eyes Ravn again and then goes to fetch some blankets. They are well worn but clean. She even gets him the non scratchy one!

"I have to know! Goddamnit." Ravn rolls over -- because the threat of being rolled over somehow manages to make it through the tequila haze. Isn't it funny how strong alcohol doesn't hit you while you are having it -- it sneakily waits to ambush you once you decide to walk home on a cold winter night and think you're just fine, just gonna need a moment to digest this experience, holy shit, why hello drunkenness.

"All I want is a normal life," he tells the pillow. And the blanket. Because it doesn't scratch. "I just want to be normal."

The ice, wrapped in a towel, gets lowered gently to his throat where the bite mark is. "Well, love, we're in the wrong town for a normal life... but wanting to be normal makes sense. Living a life in constant pain can't be easy." Perdita says softly, sympathetically. "I'd give you normalcy if I could find it, but that's about the only thing I haven't figured out how to steal." She sits on the floor next to Ravn, wincing slightly as she does, looking up at Isi with a tired smile. "He'll be okay tomorrow morning, but for tonight is it okay if he sleeps here?"

"... have to know what?" Isi is still completely confused at what is going on, and shakes her head slowly.

"Ah, yeah. Sure. Not the most comfortable thing and I don't... I guess I could go hit up the store quick while he's still passed out." Just talking her thoughts aloud.

The wince has her frowning and she turns to go into her room and comes back out with a pillow to be offered up to Perdita. She looks away as she says, "For you to sit on."

"Have to know why I'm like this. Why I'm fucking terrified of everything." Ravn tries to pull himself together, he really does (the success rate is debatable). He runs a gloved hand through his hair -- which doesn't make his hair any less of a mess -- and tries. "Some of them, they can do this thing. They project emotions. Like, de la Vega, Hyacinth, Maggi Gyre -- they've all done it to me at times. Project this chill the fuck out Abildgaard emotion, and my anxiety just ... went away, for a while. I want to know how they do it."

"I don't think he's in any shape to complain." Dita tells Isi softly. The pillow is accepted with a chagrined smile, and Dita shifts to sit on it. "Thanks." She murmurs.

"They're Empaths... but I didn't know you could project. I've tried. All I can do is receive, and the receiver's on the fritz most of the time so I don't even try." she frowns, slightly, looking irritated. She wants to project, dammit. "You ever tried grounding techniques?"

Isi's eyebrows are pulled together. This is CONFUSING. She takes a step backwards and rubs at her arm as if trying to rub off of what was just suggested.

"Me? Or him?" She's not sure who Dita's talking about with that last bit.

Ravn raises a gloved hand to gesture in the air in a way that does absolutely nothing to convey meaning. "They do this -- heard some one call it mind Xanax. Like, they touch you and you're just chill. Not scared, being touched doesn't hurt. It's awesome. Why can't I be like that? What the fuck use do I have of being able to float a teaspoon or a lighter?"

"Him. But... you might benefit, too. It's the five main senses. Like... five things you see, four things you hear, three things you touch, two things you smell, one thing you taste. My school counselor taught me that when I was a kid. Helps if I'm... having a bad day." Perdita offers, softly.

"Ravn, if you could do it, I don't think you could do it to yourself. You can't heal yourself, right? I've never been able to... Just... let your friends help out if they can."

".... are you having a bad trip?" Like, that's what it sounds like Ravn's describing. "LIke, it sounds like you got high and now you're crashing."

Isi feels more comfortable with a very mundane explanation that doesn't involve the mind being fucked.

I like my extra helping ferbs okay.

"He removed the fucking collar. What does it even mean?" Yep. That's a whine. The Dane is whining. So much for his usual air of composure, keeping it together, knowing what he's doing, convincing other people he knows what he's doing. Maybe there's a reason he doesn't usually get drunk or high in public.

"It sounds like a bad trip... plus booze." Dita tells Isi, softly.

"If I had to guess? It means you're not being chained, anymore. You can go off leash, be your own cat... man... bird." Perdita winces and shifts against the pillow, sighing. "You're not dead. You're not dying today. You have a motorcycle and a cat to live for. Also, I'm pretty sure Isi would be sad without you." Which is Dita's way of saying she would be sad if he died, of course.

"You have a comfortable sofa." Isi says begrudgingly her arms starting to fold - except fuck it here arm is still broken which makes folding said arms uncomfortable.

"Maybe you weren't ever chained. And now you can just... make your own way?"

"But what does it mean?" With a bit of luck he'll pass out before long; if for nothing else, then to stop him whining. "What am I supposed to do? Get on a horse and ride all the way back to L.A. -- and you don't even know that song."

Drunk too.

He rubs his face. "I'm not my mother's pet. You know, they both said that. Rosencrantz and de la Vega. Different times but they both said that. But what does it mean?"

"Mine's pretty comfortable, yeah... but it's at the top of a murder building." Perdita tells Isi.

"Of course you're not your mother's pet. If you were, you'd still be at her beck and call, right? And instead, here you are... on a strange woman's couch... shitfaced. Confiding in a grifter with unhealthy coping mechanisms of her own."

"Well, she's dead," Ravn murmurs. "And she didn't come back. Yet."

Pause. "I didn't see her at least."

Pause. "She'll probably come back. I don't give a fuck. They all do."

"Your mother isn't a fucking zombie," Isi says, lacking some of the empathy this situation probably requires. Standing is getting awkward so she moves to the side of the sofa housing Ravn's feet and sits on the arm, folding her legs up under herself criss-cross and balancing there. "If she does come back as a zombie you'll get to shoot or burn or whatever her and feel free then."

"... Devláika, Ravn. You're not allowed to drink tequila anymore. How much did you drink? Give me your phone." Perdita holds out her hand, waiting patiently, calmly.

"They did that to my fiancée," Ravn looks up long enough to inform Isi -- and then ducks back down because moving means icicle goes away from neck and actually, he rather likes the way it feels on his neck right now, thanks. "She came back, you know? Followed me all the way here. Tried to murder a girl for talking to me. Didn't go so fucking great for her, because Gina Castro is like, the ultimate Glimmer witch, and with August Roen and Rosencrantz backing her up, let's just say they fucking re-painted the inside of the Grizzly Diner with her body fluids."

He beams. "It was glorious."

And surrenders his phone. Because if there's one thing Ravn tends to do unless he's alert enough to stop himself, it's take commands from women, and he will die before he admits it.

"See, nothing to worry about. Except for what Dita's going to do with your phone."

A frown etches onto her brow. "Did the Chief just let you go or did he not know how fucked up you were?" See, growth, Isi is willing to think that maybe Ruiz is innocent.

"Did Ruiz give you the tequila, or did you go to one of the xindo bars around here?" Perdita asks, holding the phone up and taking a selfie that manages to get all three of them in it, dim lighting though it may be, before texting it to herself, and then she's texting herself a contact from Ravn's phone. "Your mother isn't going to become a zombie, but if she does, I promise to help you shred her."

"I bought it. As a bribe. To loosen shit up a little. And he did want to call me an Uber, even said I could crash there, but fuck it, I wanted to walk home. I'm not a kid."

And not very smart when this drunk, either. Also, that is a remarkably pink cell phone casing, complete with a Hello Kitty cut-out. No wonder half this town thinks he's gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.

".... you're an idiot is what you fucking are. This," Isi gestures to all that is the glory of Ravn sprawled on her couch "is why I thought your whole speech about 'blah blah blah rely on others blah blah blah, was bullshit. You aren't even willing to take that advice."

"Unless you were worried he was going to get cuddly, which I SINCERELY doubt... un maldito idiota, oh mi Devláika... ¿Qué te pasa?" Perdita stands, pacing the space, moving with a bit of stiffness to her step. Her tone is exasperated, but fond. It's not like he normally gets shitfaced and needs talked down, after all. "You could have called me. I would have picked you up and taken you home, but now you need to sleep it off on Isi's couch, and don't think she's making you a hangover cure in the morning. You're going to have to walk home in the morning sun."

Ravn sits up. Icicle be damned. "I'm relying! I'm here now, aren't I? I texted you guys. I didn't just go scream into a pillow and then drink until I forgot everything like usual! I'm relying!"

Man, his pride is going to sting in the morning.

"Put the ice back on your fucking neck." Isi snaps back, glaring at Ravn directly at him. "What she said."

No, Ravn is NOT getting a hangover cure from Isi. He'd be lucky to get breakfast."

"You drank until you almost forgot everything, then relied. I mean... you did text, so partial credit, but... Next time? Text before you're so trashed you just give me your phone. You know better, I'm a grifter. You're lucky I like you and your bank account is moth balls and pocket lint." Perdita sets the phone down near Ravn and sighs. "I care about you. And if we can figure out a way to make your pain less, or go away entirely, I want to help."

"You don't really think I'd keep my bloody bank data on my phone?" Ravn shoots Perdita an incredulous look; this is a phone that's travelled with him for years, from hostel to bus stop to backseats of cars. He can't stop himself from laughing in spite of the pain. "I don't even carry a credit card with more on it than I need for groceries. The world's full of people like you and me."

He lies back down and curls up. "Fuck it. I'm just gonna go to sleep. And pretend this never happened. I'm great at that. Nothing ever fucking happened. Ever. Anywhere. Nope. And I'll burn that goddamn collar."

".... what the fuck is wrong with you?" Isi replies. "Everything, everything is wrong with you." Isi announces, pushing herself up to her feet and pacing towards the wall so she can turn the heater up a few degrees.

There's some accommodations for Perdita too - and an offer to let the woman use her bed (alone, don't get dirty thoughts! Isi isn't that bad of a creeper) if she wants to stay closer to Ravn.

Fucking idiots. Everyone. All over. Poor Ravn's gonna get some tough love in the morning.