If you don't stop, you'll lose control

[blackmagus]

Who: Fortescue, and you (open)
Where: The bar.
When: Day 78, late morning/early afternoon.
What: Fortescue stops holing herself up in her room and decides to go to the bar to self-medicate her discomforts.



She was cut off from the Planes, and that was the problem. Normally the connection was healed in what felt like a matter of minutes. But when the barrier had split open, it had ruptured the connection to her soul, safely contained within Jazz, and now it was healing, but slowly. At first she had felt normal, as far as being severed from your soul was concerned, but here in the Cape she was cut off from the medication that stopped the later panic attacks and hallucinations. One of her superiors had once, with immense gravity, described it as the little bit of your soul that's left, having a nervous breakdown. She had crawled under her metaphorical rock and had barely come out, Jazz howling up a pained storm. Normally he was knocked out and kept that way, when he had to handle this much time alone with a human soul.

Fortescue didn't like to think of what it could be doing to him. It wouldn't kill him, she knew, or they never would have let her pick him as the carrier of an exanimed soul. But she knew it was painful, both from his cries and from the fact that — as the connection started to heal — she could now feel it. Prolonged pain did funny things to both people and animals. And this was like sitting in a sauna, with a switchblade being, occasionally, stuck straight through the heart.

Whether her Guide or the Planes itself normally healed the connection, she didn't know. But it would be at least another day, at this rate, before she and Jazz would both feel closer to normal.

To that end, Fortescue decided to go drink until she couldn't feel it as much. It was her standard solution to such problems, her tolerance being decidedly average. Imperium had always kept its secret weapon well-stocked, though maybe they had been starting to regret that move. And she needed to get out of the house before she started crawling the walls. Even when curled up in bed, she didn't like it, though possibly that was because of being curled up alone. That was being safe, however, because she knew exactly why her superiors cut her off from Jazz on certain missions. She was more... 'effective', that way. More likely to question instincts that others would consider moral or human. No matter how much she liked to pretend otherwise, she'd been trained to kill and that was what she did for a living. So for a few days, she kept herself away from others and only let herself talk to them over the comms. Or in short bursts.

Now that the tether to her soul seemed more stable, however, she was eager to get out. But sitting up and on a stool, or in a chair, seemed to magnify her discomfort. So late morning and early afternoon found Bethmora Fortescue sitting against one of the bar's walls, near the counter, with a twitching cat in her lap and a bottle of something nameless in her hand, humming something that was closer to a funeral dirge than anything else. It was 3AM somewhere. Probably. Despite the tone of what she was humming, she had a pleasant expression — aside from the occasional twinges of discomfort.

[ooc: For those who can sense such things, her soul residing in her kitty is about 500% more obvious right now. As the connection is still sealing itself.]

Comments

[bluesrat]

The smoke from the forest fire hadn't done Rat any favors, and when his cough had worsened, instead of getting better, he'd holed up in a makeshift lean-to, and for the first time truly regretted not settling himself in one of the houses by now. A day or two of rest seemed to have done him good, though. He might not be up for singing, but he was getting desperate for human contact, and that sent him back to the bar with his guitar slung across his back. It had become a near-daily ritual already, in his short time here, disrupted only by the chaos of the barrier breaking. His own contribution had, in the end, been pretty pointless, and still he was paying for it.

His expression, when he entered, was far more gloomy than the usual friendly smile he put on for everyone. When he stepped in and saw the woman sitting by the wall, it took him a moment to reassemble a look of gentle concern on his face. "...You okay?"

[blackmagus]

She had her head leaned back against the wall when Rat walked in, but at the question she opened her eyes. A smile came easily to her own face, since she was already feeling much better. "'ullo, Tracy," she greeted him, free hand petting the back of Jazz's head. "I'll be fine. Just... under the weather."

If a soul in proper working order could be considered 'the weather'.

"Did you come to play?"

[bluesrat]

He gives her a weak, but sympathetic smile, because she looks about as bad as he feels. The nickname could grow on him, though. Who wouldn't want to be called after a childhood icon?

"Sure. Honestly, you look like you've already got the blues..." He coughs wheezily.

[blackmagus]

"I'm not sure if it's the blues, exactly... perhaps the reds, or the oranges. I'd say yellows, but I really do loathe that color," she rambled. What color was a soul, anyway? All she could remember was light. A lot of it. Maybe mortals couldn't properly look at one, anyway. But she knew hers felt like volcano filled with shrapnel, at full blast, because that's what Jazz had felt.

Then, she focused on that cough. "Are you all right?"

[bluesrat]

He let her ramble herself out, since it was fairly clear she'd been drinking, and Rat knew all too well how that went. "I'm okay. Breathed a lot of smoke..." He ambled over, just a little cautious, watching her as if making sure he wouldn't be invading her personal space. On the one hand, there were more comfortable places to sit than the floor, but on the other hand he was perfectly used to discomfort and she looked like somebody who ought not be left alone.

[blackmagus]

"Oof." Maybe she'd taken for granted that she could move into the Shadow, and avoid the worst of things that way. Fortescue squinted at him in a sympathetic way, taking a quick drink of her mystery bottle. She didn't seem to mind him coming closer at all. "Never pleasant. I'm glad that's all the trouble you had, though."

A few people had been worse off, that she'd been able to tell from broadcasts, but everyone seemed... more or less all right. Or recovering.

[bluesrat]

Not everyone has clever abilities that let them get out of the way.

Deciding the invitation was implied, Rat unslung the guitar from his back and came to lean on the wall beside her, sliding down to sit. His lungs weren't happy, but he looked relatively unscathed otherwise. It could have been much worse.
"Balthazar rescued me. I might've gotten stuck or lost, otherwise," Again he pauses to cough, "but I'm okay. It's passing. Where... were you, when it all happened?" He'd already asked if she was okay, after all, so it looked like he was going to have to go fishing for the real answer.

[hung_garian]

Despite the temptation, Gabriel was well aware that the bar didn't have the stock to get him drunk. Most bars didn't, and this one was particularly understocked. It was probably for the best: a drunk archangel, even one in a more stable state of mind than he was, was about as far from safe as it got. Still, that didn't mean he couldn't live vicariously through the other drunks at the bar, or at least show up and laugh at them. On seeing Fortescue, there was a brief moment when he thought he'd stuck gold: she'd seemed a fun sort of person when they'd spoken last, and definitely the type to be an entertaining drunk.

That impression didn't last, though. It only took a few seconds to notice what she was humming, and the oddity of her soul. The latter he could pass over as just that - an oddity - but humming a funeral dirge, and already wasted this early in the day... he wasn't the Good Samaritan type usually, but it seemed pretty clear to him that she was upset, and given how well they'd gotten along before, he thought it only right that he should at least make an attempt to cheer her up a bit. And, obviously, the best way to do that was to plonk himself down on the nearest chair to her and grace her with the delight of his company. That never failed to brighten a person's day.

"Celebrating something?"

[blackmagus]

"Being out of the house," Fortescue agreed lazily, opening her eyes and giving Gabriel a smile. Well, maybe it was more of a smirk. She was caught between quite a few emotions, at that particular moment, and it was easy to blame having a soul that was trying to get back to what it thought of as normal. That was a likely explanation, as well.

"And being alive. But I always celebrate that. And how is my Id, today?"

[hung_garian]

"Always worth celebrating."

He could have meant either being alive or being out of the house. Maybe he meant both. As far as he was concerned, any cause for celebration was a good one. He smirked back - which, from Gabriel, was probably a smile, just as it could also be probably a frown or probably a punch in the face or probably a heartfelt declaration of love, depending on the circumstances. Smirks were very versatile, or at least, Gabriel seemed to think they were, given that they were his default expression.

"Can't complain, and trust me, I can complain about anything - so I'm fine. Doesn't look like you can say the same though, sweetheart. What's up?"

[blackmagus]

She chuckled, running a hand through her hair as another uncomfortable tremor ran through her. Jazz, in her lap, twitched and then gave a miserable-sounding owwww, as his eyes seemed to glint a little more than usual. He was dealing with the situation the worst, Fortescue had to admit, though at least he had petting to look forward to, whenever he looked cute enough. She was half tempted to give him something alcoholic of his own, not that it was terribly good for him, either. In a healthy sense.

"Don't worry, I believe you," Fortescue teased him gently. She hesitated before explaining, "Jazz and I had a little trouble when the sky opened up. But we're... healing up."

[hung_garian]

"Seems a lot of people did."

He hadn't been particularly affected - he hadn't been near the Doctor when the barrier had been opened, he'd been in the village, being largely unhelpful. He supposed that was what he got for being untrustworthy, but nothing had managed to attack it, so maybe it hadn't been a complete waste of time. Balthazar, though, was still messed up from it - he was recovering, but not as fast as Gabriel would like him to. He leant over and scratched Jazz behind the ears, musing over whether he could do anything to help without risking making it worse. Souls were complicated to mess with at the best of times.

"And alcohol's helping with the healing process, huh? Good thinking."

[blackmagus]

Jazz wasn't as picky as he might have been, normally, about where he got his attention from; he was glad to get it, and purred quietly as he flicked the ear that was only half-there.

"It's my usual go-to," she agreed, smiling. "Care to join me? You might want to grab something else, though, this stuff is terrible."

She said, as she had another gulp.

[voliere]

It's been an odd few days. After the explosions and the whole - incident, with Dilandau, Elizabeth has been sort of hiding. She's stayed put in the house and tried not to make too much noise anywhere, in any way. But she can't stay in one place too long - it's so restricting, and she wants out - so she goes to the bar.

It probably isn't a great idea, considering that's where Dilandau was before, but she's careful! She peeks inside first to make sure that he isn't. But she does recognize the woman against the wall, and - well, she's curious. So she slips into the bar nervously, glancing around to make sure the wiry warrior isn't hiding in the shadows or anything.

And when she's pretty sure he isn't, Elizabeth crosses the room and looks down at Fortescue, playing with the thimble on her pinky and looking a little worried. "Miss Fortescue? Are you alright?"

[blackmagus]

Fortescue frowns at the length of time it takes for Elizabeth to cross over to her. She's not so far removed, just yet, that her senses have taken leave, and sneaking up on Fortescue is quite difficult. Zoning out might be very dangerous in a place like Kore, anyway. She offers Elizabeth a comforting smile, in any case, when she walks over, and Jazz looks up from her lap in an interested way. He was always much more in favor of women than men, due to his owner.

"Hullo, Lizzie," she greets the younger woman. "I'm... recovering, but I'll be fine, really."

[voliere]

Elizabeth carefully lowers herself down, smoothing her skirt and settling to sit on her knees next to Fortescue, hands in her lap and straight-backed. The cat makes Elizabeth smile, and she offers her hand carefully to Jazz for him to sniff.

"Recovering?" Elizabeth asks, glancing at Fortescue. Lizzie, she's never been called that before. She kind of likes it. "Recovering from what?"

[blackmagus]

Jazz does so, with great personal dignity, before he rubs his head against it; his movements are slow and sluggish, as tired of moving as he is tired of the collective pain they're both in. Fortescue, at least, currently has it dimmed, courtesy of liquid self-medication.

"Oh, something that happened when the sky opened up and the Doctor left." She shrugs. "It's healing. Just slowly. How have you been?"

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

[voliere]

She carefully scratches behind his ears and frowns a little at his sluggishness. Poor cat. And as for what happened with Fortescue, Elizabeth blinks and looks up at her.

"Oh - but you're alright, yes?" She asks, peering, trying to make sure Fortescue is going to be okay. "The damage isn't permanent? And I'm fine, maybe a little... more cautious of this place, but I'm fine. I'm concerned for the survivors of the aforementioned sky opening, mostly."

<3

[blackmagus]

"I'm fine," Fortescue assures her. She's honored by the concern, smiling, and explains, "It's something that's happened before. But being cut off from my world means the healing process is taking longer than usual."

It's definitely something that she's going to keep in mind, in the future. Absolutely no separations from him — that can be helped.

"The Cape's a lot more dangerous than it appears at first glance."

Later on

[burnburnburn]

[Dilandau's movements have been severely restricted by his cracked ribs and the number of people who have it out for him, which is why he's stayed at home rather than gone out to socialise.

He's sitting on the sofa in the living room, failing to relieve his boredom by reading and getting increasingly irritated that it's not working. When she comes in his growing annoyance immediately focusses on her]

I can smell you from over here.

[blackmagus]

[Fortescue sniffs at herself. Woodsmoke, alcohol. It could be worse. Not that she's really cares to spare 'her Buttercup' anything.]

And here I forgot to bring you something back. Oops.

[burnburnburn]

[He scowls at her]

Then you're useless. Don't start that giggling again if you're going to stay here.

[blackmagus]

[She almost giggles on principle, but then decides not to. She feels better than she has in a few days, but still, giggling is beneath her at the moment. Instead, she shrugs.]

Relax. I'm going to bed. Soon.

[Maybe.]

[burnburnburn]

[He throws down his book, his patience with it gone completely]

It's too late, you've disturbed me already.

[He gives her a sullen, resentful look for looking so relaxed when he's not]

So how are all the other captives amusing themselves in this prison?

[blackmagus]

[Booze. It does a body good, in Fortescue's mind. She doesn't look remorseful at all for disturbing him, but then again, she's only just come in. Plenty more disturbing left.]

Mmmm — licking their wounds, if the lack of people out and about is to be used as a clue.