and we could run away. [open]

[deuteranope]

WHO: Maverick Taylor and OPEN (mostly/semi).
WHAT: Maverick’s nightmares rear their ugly heads again. Time for late night stress relief.
WHEN: Night of February 20th (into the 21st) “officially”, but time is fake and nightmares happened on more than one night, so chase your bliss.
WHERE: Lumi3/outside and around.
NOTES: Smoking and swearing, as a Mav does.

( SKITTERING - closed to Imelda. )

[His feet are bare against the cold ice, and part of his brain tries to tell him that he should be slipping and splitting his head open, but there isn't time to argue because he needs to go, he needs to be faster, he needs --

crrrack.

He’s falling. The only one reaching out to him is the sharp-nailed, glowing creature he was running from in the first place...but arms still catch him. They're cold, probably from being so far beneath the ice in this dark pit, and dirty. He can't find where any of them stop being an arm, even as that one twitches with a crack and starts slithering over to him, crawling, nails scrabbling. He shouldn't open his mouth, but it's the only thing he can still move, as the cries for help rise up within him.

Maverick sits up with a yelp and an overwhelming feeling of nausea, like those fingers really had clawed their way down his throat and were stirring up his stomach, now. This room is -- weird. But it's his, still. Just the one at the academy. He’s here, and he'd yelled, but not for help, and he wasn't crying, and thank fucking god it had been years since he'd ever wet the bed from this shit. He doesn't know how much lower he can let himself sink. He runs his hand through his sleep-addled curls to try and stop it from shaking, but when that doesn't work immediately, he reaches for a pair of headphones coiled around the bedpost to clamp over his ears and -- ugh, fuck, where was his phone? He doesn't want to turn on the light… If anyone had woken up -- or was still fucking awake -- then he needed some kind of plausible deniability. Totally still fucking asleep…]

( SMOKESCREENS AND SNOWBALLS - open, around campus. )

[The fear had faded some, letting anger take its place. Adults weren't supposed to have nightmares, only little kids -- and yet there he was, eighteen years old, and waking up in the middle of the night scared out of his wits time and time again. All because of some fake bullshit his brain came up with! He needs...something real. And a goddamn smoke.

He’s already working on a second cigarette by the time he's settled into packing snow into something that is a maybe vaguely human-shaped lump? His movements are agitated and restless, punctuated now and again by a string of curses or a cloud of smoke intermingling with his breath, clear from the cold. He's gotta suck it up and build an army.

And then he's gotta take that army out with the metal bat resting on the ground beside him.]

( SORRY NOT SUBTLE - open, Lumiére 3 common area. )

[Now that he’s worked out all that anxious energy… Okay, no, he still can't fucking sleep. But at least he can come back inside and curl up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate. He’s swapped out his bat for his laptop, drooping eyes scanning the screen as he scrolls through various, brainless sites. Mav’s got music going, but with the low volume he's set it to, someone probably has to get pretty close to recognize one of many songs by The Cure. Soothing rock.

...there are literally a dozen packets of hot chocolate resting next to him. He probably has more than enough to share, during these lazy, godless hours.]

Comments

smokescreens

[transfusionem]

[She's been having trouble sleeping since being shuffled off to the academy - maybe it's nerves, maybe it's a side-effect of this whole thing, maybe it's a sign she should just give up and try to be nocturnal. Whatever it is, she's restless, and that means she's taken to going on runs around campus in the middle of the night.

Usually she doesn't stop to bother people who are walking, but...]

Hey there. [Adelaide brushes back her bangs, looking at Maverick's progress.] D'you want some assistance?

[deuteranope]

Do I look like I fucking need assistance? [he bites back, shoulders hunching up around his neck in defensive annoyance a brief second before he actually looks over to the person offering it. Well, she didn't look like a total tool... He'd have to find out more to make that decision for sure, though. With a sigh, he switches to holding his cigarette and glares at his progress.]

Just out here making a fucking snowman, not something exciting. Shouldn't you fucking be asleep, anyway?

[transfusionem]

No, but that doesn't mean you don't want some. [Geez. Slow your roll.

She shrugs, not that he'd notice with the way he's glaring at his snowman.]

Probably, but I can't manage to get any, so. Here I am. [She motions with a flourish - that, again, he probably won't notice. Oh well.] Ready and willing to help you build this snowman, if you want me to.

[deuteranope]

[He both admires her attitude and finds it incredibly grating, because he's the one that's supposed to be annoying, obnoxious, and impossible to rid oneself of. There must be something in the school's water supply making the trait pop up in so many more kids, lately... Needless to say, his roll will not exactly be slowed. Just maybe angrily braked intermittently.]

Make your own fucking snowman. [This one is his!!! It...sort of counts as an invitation, though. In his head, it's a good one.] And do me a favor and at least sound like you're tired, it's weird as hell to be so chirpy.

[transfusionem]

[There's definitely something in the school's water supply, but it's probably, like, a kraken or something.

But maybe she will make her own snowman!!]

I've never made one before. [Though she's like 99% sure he won't care, it still feels it's worth saying.] Do you want me to start yawning? Because I can try.

[And probably fail, because she's a terrible actress.]

[deuteranope]

[Good point.]

Fuck no. [If only because it will likely trigger the need to yawn in him, and his won't be so obviously fake. He'll get worn out and want to sleep again, and he just really does not want to sleep right now.] You said you never built a snowman? You from fucking... I dunno, what are the hot states... Texas, California, or something?

[transfusionem]

[That gets a laugh out of her, and she shakes her head.]

Okay, got it, I won't yawn. [That was easy.] And yeah, I'm from Texas. Totally nailed it.

[deuteranope]

'Course I did, I'm a fucking genius.

[Lucky guess...assuming she wasn't screwing with him. He injects a bit of gloating into his tone anyway.]

Aren't you fucking cold? Hell, I'm cold and I'm fucking from here.

[transfusionem]

Or you're one of those seers. Is that how it works?

[It was a guess, but at least it was right.]

I'm not that cold - one of the benefits of, you know. [She gestures, as if he actually knows.]

[deuteranope]

Not even a little bit. And no, I'm not a seer, but my Mama is.

[He slaps another lump of snow onto his snowman and glances over. Hngh...]

Nnnno. I don't fucking know. Do I wanna fucking know?

[transfusionem]

What, really?

[She sounds - honestly she sounds amazed. That just seems?? Like the coolest thing ever?]

I dunno. Depends on if you're gonna freak out or not?

[deuteranope]

[Ahh, to be young and amazed by seer business again... It is the coolest thing ever, but that's just because Mama's the coolest thing ever, not because she's a seer in particular.

His eyes narrow a moment, but with a huff he goes back to his smoke and snowdude.]

Whatever. I don't give a shit. Long as you're not a fucking vampire.

[sad kazoo noise]

[transfusionem]

[Well, she should have expected that. Was kind of expecting that, and now she doesn't know what to do.

She can't exactly blame a guy for hating vampires, considering. But also...

Whomp, whomp.]

Isn't there a professor here that's a vampire? What's so bad about 'em?

[That's totally not suspicious at all, good job.]

[deuteranope]

I'm not taking a bunch of classes on spooky shit right now, so I don't really have Outlands professors.

[Partially so he can get all caught up on his academics, what he really wants to do in this stupid school, and partially so he doesn't have to confront his prejudice.]

Just don't like 'em. They're fucking murdercreeps. And then if they make a point of not murdering? Talk about a toxic fucking relationship.

[transfusionem]

Are there...a lot of professors from the Outlands, here?

[Oh. Oh no.

She can't exactly tell him she's wrong without outing herself in some way, and she'd rather not make an enemy of a person she just met. Even if it seems like an incredible amount of bullshit to her to just...write people off like that wholesale.

Hm. It's Complicated.]

Have you even met a vampire before?

[deuteranope]

There are enough of ‘em.

[More than enough, really, but he focuses on adding more snow instead of voicing that opinion. Her other question...gets a pause, then a grunt.]

I was five. [And he doesn’t really remember it.] But yeah, I have, not that it’s any of your fucking business.

[transfusionem]

I see.

[She doesn't, not really, but he's painting a clear enough picture for her. He doesn't like things from the Outlands - and while she doesn't know half of what can come from the Outlands she supposes that's...fair.]

You were just a tiny baby, huh? But okay. I won't ask what happened.

[She does hope things went okay, at the very least, but she gets the feeling voicing any concern is just going to make him even pricklier.]

[deuteranope]

[Her intentions are good, but unfortunately it's really easy to make Maverick prickly, and he scowls around his cigarette.]

I was a kid, but I don't need your fucking pity about it. Shit turned out just fucking fine. Wouldn't change what happened, with what I got in exchange, so quit acting like I'm some pathetic puppy. You're making a fucking snowman, cheer up. Fuck.

[transfusionem]

[She's learning that much.]

I wasn't trying to pity you. [It's said with a shrug, as she crouches down to begin packing the snow into something that vaguely-ish resembles a ball.

It's more of an awkward lump.]

You seem more like a cat than a puppy, anyways.

[deuteranope]

[grumble mumble grumble -- hm?]

I don't know if I'm supposed to be fucking insulted or flattered. Cats are independent and smart as shit, so whatever. More fucking accurate.

[transfusionem]

That's a very cat-like answer of you.

[What does that even mean.]

But I think it's flattering, even if dogs are pretty great.

[deuteranope]

[He narrows his eyes, because is she being terrible, or not!!! The fact that he doesn't know automatically means she's terrible for inflicting this on him.]

Sure. Nothing wrong with dogs. Have a cat, though.

[transfusionem]

[She's just The Worst.]

You do? I didn't know we were allowed to have pets on campus! [This is really exciting news, actually.] What kind of cat is it?

[deuteranope]

[Maybe not The Worst... Someone excited about having pets and asking about his cat maybe isn't so bad all the time. Just naive and chirpy.]

Of fucking course we can. Familiars are basically glorified, smarter, magical pets, so it wouldn't be fair to ban regular-ass ones.

[Never mind that he wasn't actually sure of this before he got his cat. He needed the cat. He earned the cat.]

I don't think she's a special breed or nothing. We got her at a shelter. She's all white, though.

[transfusionem]

[Listen, pets are great? Who wouldn't be excited about pets?]

Makes sense - I just wouldn't have expected that.

[She beams at him.]

What's her name?