[In the weeks following this post, Steve will receive an embroidered badge, designating them part of Aloy’s monster hunting crew. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—it can be sewn anywhere the wearer likes, and appears to have been stitched with a practiced hand.
If the wearer is incapacitated, a spell woven into the threads by Haelva will activate, allowing the user to send an emergency message to another member of the group—use it wisely.]
post-nero kicking it, but before the network post.
[ Geralt wastes no time contacting Steve. He knows who Nero was with when the monster struck, and though he is assured Steve is physically safe, his mind is swirling with a dozen broken thoughts.
He does not want to pause and grieve. The thought of it churns his stomach. He swallows the bitterness that threatens to rise and turns his focus towards another instead. Somebody who needs him. Who he knows will feel the loss as deeply as he has.
And who he needs to see with his own eyes is in one piece. But he knows, too, Steve may need...time. He can't tell if the boy has made it someplace safe or if he may still be with Nero. (The body.) So he keeps his message brief. ]
[ in the hours that follow, steve doesn't feel much of anything at all. it feels a bit like a haze, and a bit like an automatic reactions - a machine, that slips in when everything else blacks out. he remembers it happening, remembers nero's face, remembers forest and the trees and that fucking shrine off to the side. he remembers wanda - he'd called for her, didn't he? - showing up and he remembers somehow getting home and he remembers eddie, god. god. he's going to have to apologize to eddie, about this, about all of it-
but steve doesn't know what happens in the between. doesn't know just how much time has passed or what he's done or even when he saw the message. was it a moment ago? was it hours? he's not covered in blood anymore, even if he can still smell it everywhere, can barely breathe because it's the only thing he can smell, his nostrils thick and coated and-
geralt. geralt messaged him. asked where he was. the physical answer is curled up in a corner of his and eddie's apartment, his face tucked into his knees and some kind of bag of spices tucked against his chest. eddie is...gone. elsewhere. either getting food that steve won't eat or telling the family whose farm they live on what happened or...who knows. but geralt asked and some weird, fragile part of steve doesn't want to answer because he doesn't want to say it but-
fuck. god. he doesn't want to talk to people. doesn't want to say it. but it's also geralt and maybe it's...hopeful, of him, but something tells him geralt already knows. ]
[ He weighs his words carefully. He and Steve are close, but there's a distance, too; he looks after Steve's training, makes sure Steve knows what he's capable of—because nothing gets you killed faster than failing to understand your reach—and on occasion, offers a little more when he glimpses something there. The steel-walled cellar, the monsters that lurked in his domain.
But as with most, Geralt doesn't pry. Steve is more than old enough to look after himself. Has been through his share of shit. And here and now, he's cautious of digging into a wound as fresh as it is.
It doesn't help he isn't physically there. He can't walk by and simply look in on Steve.
[ there may be a distance, yes, but steve doesn't see it in the same way geralt does. there is always some part of him that knows how geralt ties to all of this - the chance to learn to use a weapon, the introduction to nero, the confidence steve ha- had, at least, in being able to do something more than just stand around. geralt had always been the one steve was looking to impress, to study and to work and to be better to show him.
that realization in the moment, though, makes steve feel that much smaller. that much worse. and it's not that it's geralt's fault in all this; it's just another reminder of how much steve can't figure out. how even in some weird, other world planet country thing, he's still managing to mess up his entire life.
or- rather. everyone else's lives. nero's life.
fuck. steve doesn't remember if he's ever felt this kind of hole in his chest. this kind of weight. there's a version he felt with Eddie, when he pulled dustin through the gate to the other side, but that had been different. almost in opposite. and steve hadn't been there for that. hadn't sat there, blood on his hands, as nero-
geralt's writing cuts into steve's thoughts, reminding him to breathe. to settle. if you'd like to see me he says, and steve... doesn't know what he wants. doesn't know if he's being childish, if he should just buck it up and get over it. he knows he's freaking people out, knows that it isn't helping anyone, how paralyzed he's acting right now, but nero- ]
i
[ he doesn't mean to respond, and the moment he knows he has fills him with a kind of panic. does he want to see geralt? does he want to see anyone?
the thought then follows that maybe, somehow, by going to the horizon this will feel easier. that maybe the pressure on his chest will lessen, he'll feel less stuck. anything can be anything there, right? so maybe that can be an escape. ]
[ The stuttered reply shimmers. Geralt waits for the rest to come. If Steve says no, that will be that. He can ask Himeka to look in on the situation—come find Steve a few days later when matters have settled a bit.
But a no is not what comes. ]
I'll be there.
[ Geralt arrives on foot, strolling down the winding road towards the ice cream shop—the simplest place to start. Thick trees line the street, and a light fog covers the area in a haze. Halfway up, he finds Steve, sat to the side between nothing in particular.
He stops. After a second, he sits down beside Steve. Grief is a palpable weight. It blankets the air, suffocating. In truth, he doesn't know what to say. The wound is raw for him, too. More so because he wasn't there. It feels as though he should have been.
He might've stopped it. ]
I spoke to him. At the end. [ In case there was any doubt about what he knows. He flexes his fingers and thinks about driving his sword through his brother. People like them—they were always meant to die bloody. But it makes it no easier to bear. ]
something in the back of steve's mind tells him to run. to not show up. to stay in whatever limbo place he's in right now in the corner of his apartment because the idea of moving, even into some kind of hallucination space, feels too heavy a weight.
but he also doesn't geralt to show up and steve isn't there. the idea of getting a message asking where he is-
he blinks, and he's standing on the side of the highway - the same winding road that he grew up on, learned to drive on, that takes him through the forests right outside of town and if he followed it further along, scoops ahoy should be...
steve sits, right there on the side of the road. it's weird, how he just doesn't have the energy, how the thought of just standing there feels too much. he'd wanted the horizon to make this easier, to feel lighter than this, but instead it feels a bit more in the opposite.
he hears geralt's footsteps, feels him come to a stop and pause before joining him on the side of the road. the grass is damp, thick with dew from the fog, and steve feels it start to seep through his jeans. his sweatshirt. it clings to him and presses.
geralt's voice is what pulls him out of it, finally turning to look at the other man. he's not crying anymore, doesn't know if he has it in him to try, but something in his eyes is...not knowing, exactly, but not surprised. I spoke to him he says, and steve's chest clenches. ]
What'd he say?
[ that voice from earlier offers answers before geralt does, mocking and sharp and painful. steve fucked up or he let me die or this never should have happened, I shouldn't have brought him. there's a part of steve that knows none of it is true, and even if nero's words had leaned in that direction, he doubts geralt would tell him.
after another second, steve's eyes go down to his hands. ]
Yeah. Eddie's- [ steve's throat feels suddenly tight, flashes of his fight with Eddie before this all happened popping up and then fading. how eddie had been there, when he'd stumbled back home, covered in nero's blood. he takes a breath, and feels it shake as it leaves him. ] Yeah.
[Maybe sometime after his talk with Eddie, and likely still finding his footing with everything that's happened mentally, Henry sends Steve a mental message.
A very simple one, to boot.
(Surely this is the man you wanted to hear from, right.)
But Henry is not one to wait around for things to happen to him; he's the active one, not the reactive one.]
[ it's definitely after Steve's talk with Eddie, though how much that helps or hurts matters is difficult to tell. he is definitely not the person Steve wants to hear from, just as Steve's answer probably isn't the one Henry wants to hear.
he just feels...tired. wrung out and a shell of the person he tries to be. he doesn't know what he's supposed to do here, or how he's supposed to act, or if he shouldn't have already done something about the whole ordeal.
Henry Creel has been living with them for over a year. Henry Creel has been a friend of theirs for over a year. Henry Creel is here, messaging him right now, asking where they stand and Steve doesn't know if he's supposed to be the bigger person (like Eddie) or if he should be angry (how he feels) or if he should already be acting, if he shouldn't be the one knocking down Henry's door and taking him down.
the uncertainty feels like it's tearing him from the inside out. it makes him feel like he's been doing everything wrong. and maybe he has.
for now - he doesn't know what he's supposed to say, so he goes with the easiest answer: ]
[He expects anger; perhaps it's unsurprising that he receives it.
(He gnashes down disappointment. There is one thing that's defined Henry Creel ever since he was young, something which still applies to this day: that lingering desire for connection, his metaphorical tendrils always extending and seeing what others have to offer. Knowing what he drags back will always be lacking, but there is a fragment hope that still lingers in him, the one that he cannot quash, the youngest part of him that just won't die.
The notion of friendship with Steve has all been but rejected. Shattered to pieces thanks to a glimpse into the far-flung future, and maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it's just easier this way, to be met with anger and denouncement. Can he blame him? He'd probably feel exactly the same way. That's just how it is now -- what was slowly built in the last couple of years is simply severed.)
It still takes longer than necessary for him to reply.]
[ it should be unsurprising, it should be expected, but what Steve finds clenched tightly in his chest isn't as simple as he makes it out to be. because yes, he is angry. angrier now that he knows that Eddie isn't. angrier even still because of how hurt he feels about it all. the guilt, the confusion, the feeling somewhere under it all that he'd been betrayed.
he and Henry were friends, weren't they? their connection from Hawkins, from a world where things were at least somewhat similar, being pulled and taken to somewhere wholly new. they'd survived the pit together, they'd survived solvunn and all its wacky weird god shit together, they'd been through this, together, and-
god, Steve hates it. hates that he's angry and he is angry at Henry but also he knows that his anger isn't only Henry. it isn't all Henry. Eddie had explained it pretty well - this back to the future shit, this timeline issue - and Steve feels bad because this would be easier if he wasn't friends.
but also, Steve's lost friends before. lost good friends. these emotions, this anger, is in a lot of ways too too familiar, and maybe that's what he's the most upset with above all. he'd known Tommy his whole life, still felt the loss of that connection like the loss of a limb, but they're different people now.
( except that a voice in the back of Steve's head keeps asking him - is Henry all that different from before? did a look into the future to a fact that hasn't happened yet really change either of them? at all? ) ]
I dunno, henry kinda seems that way unless you got any other crazy insane secret you wanna share just air out all your dirty laundry
Jesus Christ I trusted you, you know I really did fuck I'm so stupid
( sometime after her conversation with eddie, clarisse doesn't so much reach out as barrel into steve's head like a colchis bull in a proverbial china shop. no hey, been a while, huh or funny speaking to you for the first time or really any acknowledgement of how weird this actually is, because the fact that they even know each other at all is built entirely on a very vivid, god-level-bullshit dream. but she's willing to put that all aside because, honestly, she doesn't have many friends that aren't also part of her extended family — and even less she'd be willing to admit are her friends — so part of her wants to cling to this one thing that had actually been hers (for once, not just some friend of percy's she happened to tolerate; clarisse put effort into her friendship with steve, in her own way), even if it wasn't technically real. why should they have to start over? she'd probably just fuck it up without 800 years to get it right. she might be fucking it up right now, but it's easier to put something back together than try to build it from nothing. )
[ honestly, steve probably should be weirded out by this. should find it weird that he really hasn't actually interacted with clarisse outside of what they all now know are fake memories and fake lives that the singularity fake implanted (???) into their brains. he should probably feel some wariness in the fact she's reaching out, because they don't actually know each other, not really, not in any real way.
but also out of nowhere he sees text that he recognizes, in a tone that feels so familiar it reminds him of a kick to the stomach, or a bunch to the jaw, more than anything else. she barrels into his mind and god, it hurts, it derails anything else he might have been focused on, but it's also something he knows and something he hadn't realized he'd been missing and now-
now what? shouldn't this be weird? shouldn't this be awkward? clarisse messages him and steve feels a little like he's finally found footing in a series of days that he's been lost. she might not know him, but if steve is being honest, she knows the only version of himself he wants to be. so. ]
uh hi also i have no idea what youre talking about
( they've never actually met, and yet steve has seen clarisse at her worst (worse than her worst, really, cruel in ways she never thought she was capable of), which should probably make her feel some type of way — but this isn't about her right now, so she's more than happy to bury that particular brand of shame in a ditch somewhere no one will ever find it. at least until she's more equipped to talk about it, which will absolutely not happen until she's had a real conversation with percy and annabeth. and even then, putting fake-godland back into context of her actual life with actual gods will almost certainly make things worse. perspective is one hell of a bitch. so, you know, calling steve out on his shit is a whole lot easier at the moment. )
What the hell is going on with you and your boyfriend
( deliberately not you and eddie. she's not sugarcoating it, because she never has. )
[ but maybe that's why he's still here, too. because he has seen her at her not-real worst, watched the sheer ruthlessness and violence and cruelty that she could be capable of. and still he was there, still he knows what is real. or, rather, thinks he does. it's difficult, the hypocrisy in knowing that what happened to you didn't actually happen but still being comfortable in what you saw of others.
steve knows what it means to have been something you didn't want to be. he knows shame, knows guilt. there's a part of him that likes to think he's on the other side of it all, but it has a tendency to sneak up on him, to find him late at night or in the middle of conversations. a broken camera, a painted sign. it feels a little ridiculous to try and compare any of his past experiences to the level of which they all reached in that make-believe future, but.
he gets it. and it's why he doesn't bring it up. won't, probably ever, unless clarisse does first.
no- it's easier to just... it's easier to be. it's easier to get this message and not question why it feels so normal to clap back. to rolls his eyes. to know exactly what she's talking about and yet still not give her an easy time of it because that- that is not something he's really prepared to talk about. ]
( she never expected this to be a walk in the park, for steve to just spill his guts because clarisse poked him once, so she's not surprised when he just denies it. because technically, sure, he doesn't have one. but they both know this isn't about the technicality of it all. and he knows this is tame for her, all things considered. she hasn't even brought the knife out yet. )
Don't give me that shit, Harrington You know exactly who I'm talking about
[ no, it was never going to be easy. and this also won't be easy. for one, because this is hardly as much as clarisse can give when it comes to trying to get information, and he takes the chance he can get to push back. for two, well. he also doesn't even know what to say about it, either. he knows she's talking about eddie, he knows that she's trying to either...what? make fun of them? make fun of him? his only understanding of how this friendship with clarisse works is the distant (false?) feeling that this is normal for them, this exchange is normal for them, but that doesn't mean he knows what to do with it. ]
yeah, well la rue the answer is still nothing cause I don't have one and never did, technically so there's nothing to spill
something's happening over here too hard to tell what but the plants are all screaming the locals are saying its an omen but its hard to tell if its here or somewhere else they're bringing us all underground
[ not that steve can do much from here but… he could see if wanda could? ]
i mean the plants are screaming on a scale of creepy shit that happens in solvunn it’s not all that bad but not great also there were people talking about the lake turning red but the primary settlement’s kinda far so i didn’t get a good look
screwed how wait you're SURE you're okay? i don't know much about the cities but governments like that tend to really fuck people over
well. yeah I feel like living out here is being caught in some weird b horror movie but you get used to it after a while or like- as used to it as anyone can be
I will I don't know how long many of us are gonna be able to take this or for how long
[The weight falling on him is crushing. It makes his arm shake, trying to hold himself up… trying to hold his organs in. All he tastes is blood, and when Nero blinks, he’s sure he’s not seeing as much as he should be. It’s all in red.
He shakes his head. Maybe he’s been waiting for this, huh? Ever since fucking Urizen. Since Vergil. He didn’t have Kyrie telling him be safe, just Wanda’s, don’t get yourself killed.
That’s — shit. Sorry, Wanda.
He can’t keep himself up. He falls back down, head hitting grass, brain feeling like it’s been shaken in a glass full of glitter. His vision sparks, and eventually he just closes his eyes. Still breathing, holding his cuts, but he can feel it. His body isn’t healing. And the demonic energy that flows through his body like a second heartbeat — he can’t feel it.
Nero gives up on holding his body together, instead grabbing Steve’s arm. Scaled, like his. His arm, on Steve’s body. The Devil Bringer. Is he gonna keep it? Kinda hope so. Keep the kid alive.]
No, you don’t. You’re not getting me anywhere. It’s — [He coughs, choking on the blood until he leans up enough to spit it out. It dribbles from his lips, thick, making his voice wet.] Not the first time. If I can’t heal myself, it’s not healing at all.
[Maybe her god-magic interfering with his blood. Same way the Pit fucked with him.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He doesn’t — he can’t. Can’t have his last fucking memories be of the pit. He thinks of what he had, what he might lose: Wanda, Himeka, fucking Rocket pretending he’s gonna take a shit in his bed.
His hands grip Steve, tight. The slip on the blood covering them, cutting on the demon’s scales.] Tell them I’m sorry. All right? Tell them about that bitch. In case she comes back.
[She promised to.]
You gotta do this for me. Wanda — she can keep you safe.
[ nero is blinking, and steve can’t tell if his eyes are in focus or not. It feels like he’s blinking a lot, like more than he should, or is that just steve, unable to keep a hold on time himself? nero tries to sit up and steve tries to help him, but that doesn’t work because nero’s hurt (you should have known that, steve) and so steve tries to help him lay back down again. nero thumps against the glass and steve winces, his eyes going from nero’s face and expression down to his torso, to the blood, the black.
He doesn’t even notice the fact he still has nero’s arm, and that nero doesn’t have any of it - not his wings, not his scales, nothing. steve doesn’t notice because nero’s grabbing onto him, and steve’s attention is forced back to now. Not the hole in nero’s gut, not the thick, suffocating smell of blood and rot, not the panic that threatens to bubble up out of the depths of steve’s gut. ]
What? What d’you mean not the first time? [ and then, without meaning to, steve’s eyes widen. Because hey- hey- that’s something, nero’s survived this before. nero can survive it again. ] What happened last time? What do I need to do? [ the words come out in a rush, on a single breath, like steve is worried that if he speaks too slowly there won’t be enough time.
nero’s grips him, and his grip is tight, almost tight enough to hurt, if steve wasn’t so high on adrenaline and panic and whatever else has a tendency to keep him moving in times like this. God damn he wished he had some kind of magic, some kind of ability, something that would actually- he doesn’t know. Help? Heal? Would it even work if nero’s healing isn’t working?
He’s looking around, like there might be something he can use from the woods. ]
Hey- [ his attention snaps back to nero, to his words, so quickly it almost hurts. ] No- no, nero, we’re going to figure this out. You tell them yourself. I mean- I’ll be there, I can add to whatever weird story you’re gonna spin about this, and. Yeah. No. No, we’re fine, you’re fine, this is going to-
[ steve almost hears Robin, somewhere, in the back of his head - fueling the words that spill from him. There’s no reason for him to be talking this much, he should be thinking about how he’s supposed to get nero somewhere that he can heal and-
Wait. Wanda. Wanda. Wanda can fix this.
steve thinks I need to message her at the same time he recognizes that nero had safe and steve’s frown is confused, a thought or two behind. ] What? No, c’mon man, you’re- you’re freaking me out. [ he forces a laugh, or tries to, to no real success. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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If the wearer is incapacitated, a spell woven into the threads by Haelva will activate, allowing the user to send an emergency message to another member of the group—use it wisely.]
post-nero kicking it, but before the network post.
He does not want to pause and grieve. The thought of it churns his stomach. He swallows the bitterness that threatens to rise and turns his focus towards another instead. Somebody who needs him. Who he knows will feel the loss as deeply as he has.
And who he needs to see with his own eyes is in one piece. But he knows, too, Steve may need...time. He can't tell if the boy has made it someplace safe or if he may still be with Nero. (The body.) So he keeps his message brief. ]
Where are you?
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but steve doesn't know what happens in the between. doesn't know just how much time has passed or what he's done or even when he saw the message. was it a moment ago? was it hours? he's not covered in blood anymore, even if he can still smell it everywhere, can barely breathe because it's the only thing he can smell, his nostrils thick and coated and-
geralt. geralt messaged him. asked where he was. the physical answer is curled up in a corner of his and eddie's apartment, his face tucked into his knees and some kind of bag of spices tucked against his chest. eddie is...gone. elsewhere. either getting food that steve won't eat or telling the family whose farm they live on what happened or...who knows. but geralt asked and some weird, fragile part of steve doesn't want to answer because he doesn't want to say it but-
fuck. god. he doesn't want to talk to people. doesn't want to say it. but it's also geralt and maybe it's...hopeful, of him, but something tells him geralt already knows. ]
at my place
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But as with most, Geralt doesn't pry. Steve is more than old enough to look after himself. Has been through his share of shit. And here and now, he's cautious of digging into a wound as fresh as it is.
It doesn't help he isn't physically there. He can't walk by and simply look in on Steve.
Eventually, he settles on a bare offer: ]
If you'd like you see me,
I'll come.
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that realization in the moment, though, makes steve feel that much smaller. that much worse. and it's not that it's geralt's fault in all this; it's just another reminder of how much steve can't figure out. how even in some weird, other world planet country thing, he's still managing to mess up his entire life.
or- rather. everyone else's lives. nero's life.
fuck. steve doesn't remember if he's ever felt this kind of hole in his chest. this kind of weight. there's a version he felt with Eddie, when he pulled dustin through the gate to the other side, but that had been different. almost in opposite. and steve hadn't been there for that. hadn't sat there, blood on his hands, as nero-
geralt's writing cuts into steve's thoughts, reminding him to breathe. to settle. if you'd like to see me he says, and steve... doesn't know what he wants. doesn't know if he's being childish, if he should just buck it up and get over it. he knows he's freaking people out, knows that it isn't helping anyone, how paralyzed he's acting right now, but nero- ]
i
[ he doesn't mean to respond, and the moment he knows he has fills him with a kind of panic. does he want to see geralt? does he want to see anyone?
the thought then follows that maybe, somehow, by going to the horizon this will feel easier. that maybe the pressure on his chest will lessen, he'll feel less stuck. anything can be anything there, right? so maybe that can be an escape. ]
yeah
horizon?
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But a no is not what comes. ]
I'll be there.
[ Geralt arrives on foot, strolling down the winding road towards the ice cream shop—the simplest place to start. Thick trees line the street, and a light fog covers the area in a haze. Halfway up, he finds Steve, sat to the side between nothing in particular.
He stops. After a second, he sits down beside Steve. Grief is a palpable weight. It blankets the air, suffocating. In truth, he doesn't know what to say. The wound is raw for him, too. More so because he wasn't there. It feels as though he should have been.
He might've stopped it. ]
I spoke to him. At the end. [ In case there was any doubt about what he knows. He flexes his fingers and thinks about driving his sword through his brother. People like them—they were always meant to die bloody. But it makes it no easier to bear. ]
Are you staying with someone?
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something in the back of steve's mind tells him to run. to not show up. to stay in whatever limbo place he's in right now in the corner of his apartment because the idea of moving, even into some kind of hallucination space, feels too heavy a weight.
but he also doesn't geralt to show up and steve isn't there. the idea of getting a message asking where he is-
he blinks, and he's standing on the side of the highway - the same winding road that he grew up on, learned to drive on, that takes him through the forests right outside of town and if he followed it further along, scoops ahoy should be...
steve sits, right there on the side of the road. it's weird, how he just doesn't have the energy, how the thought of just standing there feels too much. he'd wanted the horizon to make this easier, to feel lighter than this, but instead it feels a bit more in the opposite.
he hears geralt's footsteps, feels him come to a stop and pause before joining him on the side of the road. the grass is damp, thick with dew from the fog, and steve feels it start to seep through his jeans. his sweatshirt. it clings to him and presses.
geralt's voice is what pulls him out of it, finally turning to look at the other man. he's not crying anymore, doesn't know if he has it in him to try, but something in his eyes is...not knowing, exactly, but not surprised. I spoke to him he says, and steve's chest clenches. ]
What'd he say?
[ that voice from earlier offers answers before geralt does, mocking and sharp and painful. steve fucked up or he let me die or this never should have happened, I shouldn't have brought him. there's a part of steve that knows none of it is true, and even if nero's words had leaned in that direction, he doubts geralt would tell him.
after another second, steve's eyes go down to his hands. ]
Yeah. Eddie's- [ steve's throat feels suddenly tight, flashes of his fight with Eddie before this all happened popping up and then fading. how eddie had been there, when he'd stumbled back home, covered in nero's blood. he takes a breath, and feels it shake as it leaves him. ] Yeah.
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wraps this up with a nice little bow
end of the month, post-au event. :)
A very simple one, to boot.
(Surely this is the man you wanted to hear from, right.)
But Henry is not one to wait around for things to happen to him; he's the active one, not the reactive one.]
So where do we stand now?
r i p
he just feels...tired. wrung out and a shell of the person he tries to be. he doesn't know what he's supposed to do here, or how he's supposed to act, or if he shouldn't have already done something about the whole ordeal.
Henry Creel has been living with them for over a year. Henry Creel has been a friend of theirs for over a year. Henry Creel is here, messaging him right now, asking where they stand and Steve doesn't know if he's supposed to be the bigger person (like Eddie) or if he should be angry (how he feels) or if he should already be acting, if he shouldn't be the one knocking down Henry's door and taking him down.
the uncertainty feels like it's tearing him from the inside out. it makes him feel like he's been doing everything wrong. and maybe he has.
for now - he doesn't know what he's supposed to say, so he goes with the easiest answer: ]
fuck you, man
i'm sure they will be Fine (no)
(He gnashes down disappointment. There is one thing that's defined Henry Creel ever since he was young, something which still applies to this day: that lingering desire for connection, his metaphorical tendrils always extending and seeing what others have to offer. Knowing what he drags back will always be lacking, but there is a fragment hope that still lingers in him, the one that he cannot quash, the youngest part of him that just won't die.
The notion of friendship with Steve has all been but rejected. Shattered to pieces thanks to a glimpse into the far-flung future, and maybe it was inevitable. Maybe it's just easier this way, to be met with anger and denouncement. Can he blame him? He'd probably feel exactly the same way. That's just how it is now -- what was slowly built in the last couple of years is simply severed.)
It still takes longer than necessary for him to reply.]
Just like that?
im so sad but also....... clenches fist
he and Henry were friends, weren't they? their connection from Hawkins, from a world where things were at least somewhat similar, being pulled and taken to somewhere wholly new. they'd survived the pit together, they'd survived solvunn and all its wacky weird god shit together, they'd been through this, together, and-
god, Steve hates it. hates that he's angry and he is angry at Henry but also he knows that his anger isn't only Henry. it isn't all Henry. Eddie had explained it pretty well - this back to the future shit, this timeline issue - and Steve feels bad because this would be easier if he wasn't friends.
but also, Steve's lost friends before. lost good friends. these emotions, this anger, is in a lot of ways too too familiar, and maybe that's what he's the most upset with above all. he'd known Tommy his whole life, still felt the loss of that connection like the loss of a limb, but they're different people now.
( except that a voice in the back of Steve's head keeps asking him - is Henry all that different from before? did a look into the future to a fact that hasn't happened yet really change either of them? at all? ) ]
I dunno, henry
kinda seems that way
unless you got any other crazy insane secret you wanna share
just air out all your dirty laundry
Jesus Christ
I trusted you, you know
I really did
fuck I'm so stupid
post-au, nocwich weekend.
Spill, asshole
( no, she will not elaborate. )
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but also out of nowhere he sees text that he recognizes, in a tone that feels so familiar it reminds him of a kick to the stomach, or a bunch to the jaw, more than anything else. she barrels into his mind and god, it hurts, it derails anything else he might have been focused on, but it's also something he knows and something he hadn't realized he'd been missing and now-
now what? shouldn't this be weird? shouldn't this be awkward? clarisse messages him and steve feels a little like he's finally found footing in a series of days that he's been lost. she might not know him, but if steve is being honest, she knows the only version of himself he wants to be. so. ]
uh
hi
also
i have no idea what youre talking about
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What the hell is going on with you and your boyfriend
( deliberately not you and eddie. she's not sugarcoating it, because she never has. )
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steve knows what it means to have been something you didn't want to be. he knows shame, knows guilt. there's a part of him that likes to think he's on the other side of it all, but it has a tendency to sneak up on him, to find him late at night or in the middle of conversations. a broken camera, a painted sign. it feels a little ridiculous to try and compare any of his past experiences to the level of which they all reached in that make-believe future, but.
he gets it. and it's why he doesn't bring it up. won't, probably ever, unless clarisse does first.
no- it's easier to just... it's easier to be. it's easier to get this message and not question why it feels so normal to clap back. to rolls his eyes. to know exactly what she's talking about and yet still not give her an easy time of it because that- that is not something he's really prepared to talk about. ]
i...don't have one?
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Don't give me that shit, Harrington
You know exactly who I'm talking about
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yeah, well la rue
the answer is still nothing
cause I don't have one
and never did, technically
so
there's nothing to spill
also why are you asking?
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how about a Steve Harrington roller coat rant
they are unhinged and im luv them
TRULY UNHINGED
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event 19 kick-off
It's bad
How's Solvunn, are you safe?
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how bad are we talking?
something's happening over here too
hard to tell what but the plants are all screaming
the locals are saying its an omen but its hard to tell if its here or somewhere else
they're bringing us all underground
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I'm sorry, the WHAT
did you just say the PLANTS are screaming?
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[ not that steve can do much from here but… he could see if wanda could? ]
i mean the plants are screaming
on a scale of creepy shit that happens in solvunn it’s not all that bad but
not great
also there were people talking about the lake turning red
but the primary settlement’s kinda far so i didn’t get a good look
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I've said it before, I'll say it again:
Solvunn's freaking creepy.
You let me know if anything changes, or if you need anything, alright?
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wait
you're SURE you're okay?
i don't know much about the cities but governments like that tend to really fuck people over
well. yeah
I feel like living out here is being caught in some weird b horror movie
but you get used to it after a while
or like- as used to it as anyone can be
I will
I don't know how long many of us are gonna be able to take this
or for how long
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[continuing from the old thread bc I got booted oops]
[The weight falling on him is crushing. It makes his arm shake, trying to hold himself up… trying to hold his organs in. All he tastes is blood, and when Nero blinks, he’s sure he’s not seeing as much as he should be. It’s all in red.
He shakes his head. Maybe he’s been waiting for this, huh? Ever since fucking Urizen. Since Vergil. He didn’t have Kyrie telling him be safe, just Wanda’s, don’t get yourself killed.
That’s — shit. Sorry, Wanda.
He can’t keep himself up. He falls back down, head hitting grass, brain feeling like it’s been shaken in a glass full of glitter. His vision sparks, and eventually he just closes his eyes. Still breathing, holding his cuts, but he can feel it. His body isn’t healing. And the demonic energy that flows through his body like a second heartbeat — he can’t feel it.
Nero gives up on holding his body together, instead grabbing Steve’s arm. Scaled, like his. His arm, on Steve’s body. The Devil Bringer. Is he gonna keep it? Kinda hope so. Keep the kid alive.]
No, you don’t. You’re not getting me anywhere. It’s — [He coughs, choking on the blood until he leans up enough to spit it out. It dribbles from his lips, thick, making his voice wet.] Not the first time. If I can’t heal myself, it’s not healing at all.
[Maybe her god-magic interfering with his blood. Same way the Pit fucked with him.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He doesn’t — he can’t. Can’t have his last fucking memories be of the pit. He thinks of what he had, what he might lose: Wanda, Himeka, fucking Rocket pretending he’s gonna take a shit in his bed.
His hands grip Steve, tight. The slip on the blood covering them, cutting on the demon’s scales.] Tell them I’m sorry. All right? Tell them about that bitch. In case she comes back.
[She promised to.]
You gotta do this for me. Wanda — she can keep you safe.
we are so good at this
He doesn’t even notice the fact he still has nero’s arm, and that nero doesn’t have any of it - not his wings, not his scales, nothing. steve doesn’t notice because nero’s grabbing onto him, and steve’s attention is forced back to now. Not the hole in nero’s gut, not the thick, suffocating smell of blood and rot, not the panic that threatens to bubble up out of the depths of steve’s gut. ]
What? What d’you mean not the first time? [ and then, without meaning to, steve’s eyes widen. Because hey- hey- that’s something, nero’s survived this before. nero can survive it again. ] What happened last time? What do I need to do? [ the words come out in a rush, on a single breath, like steve is worried that if he speaks too slowly there won’t be enough time.
nero’s grips him, and his grip is tight, almost tight enough to hurt, if steve wasn’t so high on adrenaline and panic and whatever else has a tendency to keep him moving in times like this. God damn he wished he had some kind of magic, some kind of ability, something that would actually- he doesn’t know. Help? Heal? Would it even work if nero’s healing isn’t working?
He’s looking around, like there might be something he can use from the woods. ]
Hey- [ his attention snaps back to nero, to his words, so quickly it almost hurts. ] No- no, nero, we’re going to figure this out. You tell them yourself. I mean- I’ll be there, I can add to whatever weird story you’re gonna spin about this, and. Yeah. No. No, we’re fine, you’re fine, this is going to-
[ steve almost hears Robin, somewhere, in the back of his head - fueling the words that spill from him. There’s no reason for him to be talking this much, he should be thinking about how he’s supposed to get nero somewhere that he can heal and-
Wait. Wanda. Wanda. Wanda can fix this.
steve thinks I need to message her at the same time he recognizes that nero had safe and steve’s frown is confused, a thought or two behind. ] What? No, c’mon man, you’re- you’re freaking me out. [ he forces a laugh, or tries to, to no real success. ]