Lost through time and that's all I need, so much love, then one day buried

[unpocoloco]

WHO: Héctor, semi-open
WHERE: Around the Academy
WHEN: Post Hollow plot.
WHAT: Sad trauma skeleton. Not a single happy prompt in sight.
WARNINGS: Standard spoilers, possible mentions of death, murder, body horror, etc

A - [Closed to Peter]

He wakes with a gasp. His body stings with cold, weighed down with it, but he pushes immediately upward, against the lid of the freezer, scrambling for the light the breaks through on shivering limbs. The climb out is almost never graceful.

But the climb out doesn't usually feature somebody else, right there and ready for him. First his mind's got to register what he's seeing. Then, all the last few weeks come crashing back. It's enough to make him forget the ice stuck to his bones and his hair. He tries to focus on the boy.

"M-Mi-jo? Wh-what are you doing here?"

B - [Closed to Imelda]

It's not the moment he wakes, like he promised. He feels a little guilty about that, but it couldn't be helped. Still, he does show up as soon as he's able. Wearing a grey blanket like a veil. Looking around him, seeing the hall's empty for now, he reaches out with bare-boned knuckles and lets them sound upon her door.

There's a fear in him he can't push down. Maybe he dreamed it all up, tricked himself. Maybe she really did just say it to keep him calm. Maybe he'll have ruined things to the point it doesn't matter if she meant it then.

He dares to speak. "...Imelda? Are you awake?"

C - Open

He'll give it right back. He will. Not like those other times he thought he'd give something back like those backpacks or that van or Chich's femur. Definitely not like those times.

The hoodie he takes from the lost and found would probably be too small for his frame on a normal day, but it's perfect right now, when he can't bear being flesh a minute more than he's got to. He'll be alright. He always pushes through. He just needs a little more time.

The hoodie keeps him hidden, his hands can hide in (borrowed) gloves and the hood can mostly hide his head. Ducking it and wearing a scarf on the lower half of his face does the rest of the job. It's still quiet at night and he's still got the ability to go part way on his power last minute if he needs to. If he's going to keep seeing Imelda, speaking to her, he can't just hide in his dorm. He's got no choice but creep his way across the grounds through the night, only the cane revealing who it could be, but he grips it like a lifeline. Or a weapon. Sneaking up now wouldn't be the best idea.

On the other hand, any person lingering outside of the Lumiere dorm might catch him going still and abruptly turning back at the sight of them.

D- Open

He sets up on a path close to the school. It's as far as he can will himself to go. He's got no picture for the man, no piece saved he can leave. But he's got a small candle lit and he's got a bottle of cheap brandy with two glasses. He knows the man isn't coming back to drink it. Not even his ghost. But Garcie deserved more than to be killed in an alley. The dead in general deserved to be remembered.

So he sits there, in a hood and blanket on the path, facing the candle, the fencing, and the filled glass he won't touch.

"You never did tell me who Valentin was, amigo..."

E - Open

There were more than a few people he needed to see. At least a few he needed to talk to. Orihime. Ekkehardt. Maya, Minako, Tyzias. All the kids he was tutoring or generally making promises to that he couldn't keep. Gamma. He doesn't know when it became such a list but it seemed that it was now.

In at least some cases, he might have messaged those people, or even found the nerve to knock on their door. Others he might have run into by now. But for a good portion of time, he's in his room and that's where he stays, running out of things to mark and work to do and things to write. Sitting in his bones because if something, anything, touches him right now he might scream. He certainly startles to hear a knock at his door.

He gets up, walks to it, presses close, but doesn't open it. There's a pause before he calls, "Who is it? What do you want?"

Comments

A

[made_up_names]

Peter has been here - a lot, recently. Not quite 24/7, but not by choice. Imelda has surely dragged him away to do normal human things like eating and bathing and pretending to study. Or any of his other friends really. But whenever he's not been dragged away, he's been here, watching over the freezer. Waiting for his tío to reemerge. There's some part of him that's terrified that he won't come back, despite being reasonably certain that he's at least been restored to what he was. Every night that he's waited here, he's become a little more despairing, a little more certain he's never going to see Héctor again.

He's almost asleep when the freezer lid starts to jiggle. Immediately, he springs to his feet, watching it move while scarcely daring to breathe. (Does he need to breathe? Questions to ask himself later.) And then there's Héctor, frost-limned and looking just as homeless as ever, but. God, okay, he's okay with this. That's normal.

He doesn't say anything in response. Instead he just pitches forward, throwing both arms around Héctor in a too-tight hug.

[unpocoloco]

He's barely straightened out, probably lucky he's out of that thing at all, before Peter's there and thrown around him. He hits with a force. It's instinctive, the way his own arms go tight around the boy, first to cradle and balance, but then tighter still. He doesn't know if it's about all that's happened or if something more has added to it, but he can't ask. He barely holds back from a sob.

"Oh...oh Peter." He rests his head upon the boy's, one hand brushing back hair while his other grips him tight. "I'm here, Mijo. I'm here. Estamos bien."

That's a lie. They're far from okay and they both know it.

[made_up_names]

There's a lot of reasons for it, honestly. Mostly things Héctor knows about or could guess at. But - mostly he's relieved, deliriously relieved to have Héctor back to his old self again. Anything is better than that howling monster he'd had to visit all last week. He'd started to lose hope.

He stays close, though he gentles his grip to be a little less bone-breaking. "Y-yeah?" he says, sucking in a breath. "Are you back to normal?" He looks up as best he can from this angle, trying to make sure there's no lingering effects on him. No Hollow masks or whatever.

C

[lastexit]

Coming by Lumiere Dorm is a problem for trying to avoid being recognized. Because, if he checked with Peter, he'd know Maya is terrible for traveling incognito. Maya, unlike other people at the dorm, follows Hector as he runs off. And Maya, unlike other people at the dorm, can track him pretty much through hell and back.

So yeah, there's a small blonde following you and you can't shake her because she does that, you might as well give up all hope and face her.

[unpocoloco]

It takes everything in him not to panic once he realizes he's being followed. He glimpses someone smaller from the corner of his eye, but his mind plays tricks. He imagines that man, that boy, whoever he'd been. He imagines him towering over, come back to finish whatever he was doing, and his breaths grow shorter, faster, as he tries to lose the figure behind.

But they keep following. Nothing he does seems to shake them. His mind's full of static and his chest full with fear, nothing else. But he stops and speaks without turning. His voice cracks.

"Who are you? What do you want? I don't have anything, so just leave me alone, okay?"

[lastexit]

"Someone way too persistent to just leave you alone."

Maya's following was more trying to find the right approach, everything about Hector's magic was- wrong. His sound was more distorted by the layers of whatever happened for her to really name it other than just- bad. And given that, she decided startling him was a bad idea.

"If you were dealing with anyone else, you would have lost me a while ago."

E is for. Um. EXPLORING..yeah

[soft_focus]

She's wandering.

Reira was given a dorm in 'Lumiere', the 'Yellow' building. And over all it's very nice. She's on Imelda's floor even, Oop. But with the sudden freedom to wander where she likes, Reira has thus taken to wandering just about everywhere she can manage to carry her little self to.

Which includes the other dorm- which, by the time she's hit floor three, she's determined to be the same as Lumiere (except Red).

The knocking wasn't intended admittedly. It was more like a 'drop'- a book she was carrying, tumbling against the ground and the door beside it. And for a moment when Reira hears someone speak from behind the door she freezes, hands around that book still.

Except she realizes she recognizes that voice, and...

"..."

And it feels like something is...wrong, maybe. "...are you...hurt?", comes Reira's voice from the other side of the door. It's not quite the right word. The feeling behind the question at least is right. Someone's stressed out, upset, and so on. A jumble of precise emotions that Reira doesn't actually have any proper words for.

So it counts as hurt, she figures.

[unpocoloco]

Just like he assumes it's a knock he hears, he likewise assumes it's going to be someone he knows. After all that time, who would still be coming to him to request a thing?

There's a silence. Oh god is he hearing things? He can't go crazy now. But no, there is a voice, a small one asking after him. He frowns. He knows that voice. But where...

"Riera...?" He asks through the door, confused. "What... what are you doing here?" No, more importantly here; "You're supposed to be in the infirmary, niña, do you know how late it is?"

[soft_focus]

It's probably not at all the best way to break good news, but 1- Good news is better than getting in trouble, and 2- Reira suspects good news is what the man needs.

"...I have a dorm now," she explains, perhaps with a slight edge of cheer to it. It is, after all, a Very Big Deal. "...They said I have to go to school now, and I get a room with a desk and a tall bed." ....That's a loft kiddo but alright.

Anyway. "...umn...you didn't answer the question though...does that mean you are..?" Are you like a cat, sir. Are you hiding pain,

C

[eudaimonikos]

Michael frequently hangs around Lumiere. Tyizas and Kano live there. Even the other students he's starting to maybe, possibly, give a shit about, like Nana and Imelda, are in there. It might be statistically improbable that they all would have been housed in the same building, but he's glad for it. Makes them all a little easier to monitor.

He was already leaving, and if Hector had continued walking like normal, Michael probably wouldn't have taken much notice of him. But running - ah, running's not the safest thing to do in front of a daemon like Michael. It triggers some old instincts. He lowers his head like a stalking cat and, just walking briskly for now, starts to give chase.

My inbox ate this tag, i am so sorry

[unpocoloco]

In his own defense, it's not so much of a run as a fast paced hobble. Avoiding suspicion is the most important thing until immediate danger proves itself immediate. But he underestimates how suspicious it is seeing someone turn around so abrupt.

He doesn't notice at first, that he's being tailed. That uncomfortable sense of being followed has proven irrational more than once these past nights. But then he starts to hear the way his steps are echoed in the snow.

Fear building, he takes a sharp turn around the first corner he comes along. His own head ducks lower and his cane is gripped tight.

[eudaimonikos]

A sharp grin splits across Michael's face as he follows the hobbling figure across campus. Chasing people has always been kinda fun, even if this time it's probably not going to end with violence. He figures if this were one of those masked ghosts, it would have attacked rather than flee, so it must just be some mortal hanging around.

Still, they were hanging around in a pretty creepy way. A sneaky way, even. He'll have to ask about that.

It's obvious to him when his prey realizes he's there. Ducking sharply into cover isn't subtle. If they're clever at all, they'll be waiting to attack him as soon as he passes...Michael follows, at a slightly slower pace, and slows to a stop before he reaches the corner. It's not obvious, though - he sends an illusion of himself forward, just to see if anything happens to it.

B

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

This late at night, Imelda would typically be asleep... But as of late, her sleep schedule has been anything but typical. Even with the danger past, there are some nights where it's difficult to find that rhythm again. Tonight is one of those nights.

She lies awake in bed as the minutes tick over into hours, her thoughts too distracting to simply turn them off and close her eyes. She's just about to give up and go out into the common room for a little while, when she hears the knock on her door. And the voice that follows.

She doesn't bother taking steps to make herself more presentable. She opens the door to him, squinting out into the brightness of the hallway outside her room. Her hair is tangled, falling in light curls over her pajama-clad shoulders. Her feet are sock-covered for warmth, but the lack of shoes makes her feel so much shorter than she's used to feeling around him.

Her expression shifts quickly from hopeful to surprised to a frowning concern. He's... still a skeleton. He rested, didn't he? Shouldn't he be back to normal by now? It's been days.

She runs a hand through her hair, trying to work out a few of the knots with her fingers. "It's almost two in the morning," she tells him--just in case he wasn't aware. Then she looks him over again, that worried expression remaining. "What happened to resting? You're still... like this." She gestures to the rest of him--bony, and not the fleshy appearance she was expecting.

[unpocoloco]

He doesn't realize he's holding his breath until it rushes out at the sight of her. It's not that she's anymore or less beautiful. It's just that seeing her after all that's happened, the urge to hold her is overwhelming, and with it, fear of everything she must think. The hope, surprise, and uncertainty he sees doesn't help.

He winces when she points out the time, muttering, "Oh. Sorry." He really should have checked that.

Her second question gets another wince. He pulls that grey fabric tighter around himself. "Sorry," He says again, quieter. "I did rest. It just... takes a kind of... focus to not be, uh, me. I can't- I can't quite... manage it. Yet. I will. Soon. Just..."

He trails off. Then shakes his head. He looks anywhere but at her.

"Maybe this isn't a good time. I can come back." Or not.

[no_dejare_de_quererte]

She doesn't mean to scold him. It's hard not to sound like she's doing just that, when she's so unsure about what feelings she wants to convey through her tone. She's glad to see him, but there's still a mountain of doubt and misgivings to dig through. And seeing him as a skeleton is less than idea. She finds that she can't look at him for very long, her gaze drifting to something else in their immediate vicinity.

"I don't want to postpone this." She promised him they would talk, and she doesn't intend to go back on that. Putting it off would only make this harder. "The common room should be empty right now. We can talk out there."

C

[deuteranope]

[Oh, sneaking up behind him is a bad idea? That's too bad... That's exactly what Mav is going to do. His past, youthful endeavors made him pretty good at tailing someone unnoticed, so he's likely to get away with it for a while...but when it becomes clear that this suspicious weirdo is definitely heading towards his dorm, he quickens his pace a bit. He's got his hands in his jacket pockets, a casual display if you aren't familiar with the fact that he keeps a folding knife on him just in case at all times.

So. Sup, weirdo.]

[unpocoloco]

[He's got no supernatural hearing, no special sight (he can see better in the dark than most only because he's so used to it), and that brief ability to sense souls is gone with the hunger. He doesn't miss it.

But he does have experience with the outlands and a freshly renewed sense of paranoia, stronger than it was before. As he hears a quickening pace behind him he picks up his own-- and takes a sharp turn towards the wooded patch away from the dorm. His head ducks further, preventing a glance from the side. Unfortunately it also means he can't see who or what is tailing him.]

E

[subconmodo]

"Open the door already, Héctor," comes Avery's voice from the other side. He's a bit scruffier than usual, shirt wrinkled, no blazer, bangs nearly obscuring his eyes, and hair pulled back in a loose, low ponytail. "Your drink's making my hand go numb." It's nothing fancy, just a bottled soda, but it seemed rude to him to show up in the middle of the night with cashew chicken and nothing for Héctor to drink.

[unpocoloco]

"Avery!" His voice changes from fearful and hesitant to immediate cheer. He does as asked, hiding behind the door itself in case of anyone walking by, but still grinning. "You brought me a drink?"

He soon sees it's not a drink drink but, to be honest, that's probably for the best at this moment in time. This is pretty unprecedented as is. It's almost enough to make him miss the way Avery looks so... not himself. Almost He wonders if he should be worried.

"Ah, seat yourself... wherever, I guess. There's... the desk chair and... the other... chair..." He really didn't set this place up for vistors. At all. His room currently features said furniture, a bed, his freezer, his cane, and the broken guitar. The desk features piles of work he's already completed or finished marking. He closes the door behind the man. "What brings you here?"

D

[yokeye]

"Héctor!? Hello~!"

Toki hasn't bothered to assess the the situation before shouting to him as soon as he recognizes the voice; Héctor himself unseen with the hood and blanket. Toki always runs into someone when he's out wandering, and should probably stop interrupting all of them from their own activities. Once he gets closer, he notices the candle and is reminded of the shrine outside Lumière for Tsuyukusa. Somebody died. Héctor was mourning.

"Sorry! I leave you!"

[unpocoloco]

He starts in place as his voice is called, back going straight. Toki? He doesn't turn to make sure. He can't be seen like this and so for that second, he wills the boy to leave him, to go, panic pushing his breath fast.

But when the boy offers exactly that, his gloved hand goes out behind him and he says, "Wait. It's okay..."

He pulls a deep bracing breath and draws on his power. Just a partial shift, just head to shoulders, he can manage that. He can handle that without falling into blind fear.

"Really, it's fine. My friend isn't going anywhere." And it's sadder that things like this get hidden and pushed away, to him. "Did you need something? I... I know I was supposed to tutor you. I apologize. I got really sick suddenly. I hope you managed okay despite that."

D

[spelleton]

It's a scene that he recognises, if only for its generics rather than its specifics. People died and left parts of themselves behind; embedded in the landscape, in the people they had met.

Rather than talk, he simply kneels and bows his head. The prayer comes easily; he's said it over bodies a hundred times, in various states of disrepair. The thousandth time is no less weighty than the first time he spoke it.

They're simple words, a simple plea to an ever-present goddess. Asking death to ease the passage of the departed, to soothe their pain and receive them with open arms.

He finishes it and stands. If Héctor indicates he wants his company, he'll stay. Otherwise, he'll take his leave.

Death was a personal thing, after all.

[unpocoloco]

He turns, startled by the sudden pressence, though not as bad as he could have been considering who it is. It being Ekkehardt means he doesn't have to try and force a shift.

Though it's not the only thing to surprise. He watches the man kneel. He's never heard this one before, but he can tell a prayer.

In all metaphorics, his heart is caught in his throat. His breath shudders softly.

But then Ekkehardt rises back up and he starts again.

"Wait," He pleads. "That was-- thank you. It's been so long since I've heard anything like that I didn't even think to try. I brought him this as offering--" He lifts the brandy. "--But I can't actually drink it like this. Seems a waste. He'd have scolded me."

Mid/late March - For Rex cw: vivisection and torture and etc mentions

[unpocoloco]

He's not better. He's not where he was before all this occurred. But, by this point in his unlife, he's stopped expecting to be. He's better in that he's getting there and adjusting to this new standard of okay, adjusting, finding his footing, gripping on tight to what he has now. Breathing steady.

He's back in flesh, ignoring the way it makes his skin crawl still and even starting to forget about it sometimes. He's back in class even more importantly, caught up on work missed, learning what he can, back among people like there wasn't a time he wouldn't have torn claws through each one of them.

He even wakes in a good mood that night. He's chatting to one of the other night students, smiling over a mild conversation. He bids them ahead, promising to meet up. He's just got to drop off some papers by a few offices. It doesn't take long. With his books in hand, he's heading back down the hall.

He freezes in place.

Despite everything, he's never broken down like this, to the point of hallucinating. But he must be. He can't be here. That person, he can't be here. It's not real. No matter how detailed, how perfectly fit within the space he seems, he can't be.

He feels the slice up from his guts, the exposing of his sternum and flaying from his rib cage. He can't change back. He can't change back. He's been cut before, but always, always, he could escape and he can't now, he's trapped into place, he's trapped in his body, and it's agony. He's never actually touched but he still feels it when his torturer reaches inside, moving within, sliding and lifting his organs to see them like they're nothing more than interesting stones on a beach.

His books drop to the floor, papers scattering. His cane clatters along with it all.

He turns around and runs.

[heromedal]

For Rex, the memories have been gnawing at him too- not nearly so much as Héctor, of course. For Rex, it's just another stone in his pocket as he wades into the sea. It'll all be worth it if he gets to the opposite shore all the same. It's certainly amongst the heaviest of them.

It really would have been useful to know there was a dead man amongst the allies of Daybreak (no one tell him there are several and he's met most of them) so he could have come up with some sort of plan to deal with that. Damaging his potential resources is frustrating. If it were truly an enemy he'd have done nothing wrong. He still didn't do anything wrong. He had his plans, they just needed to let him complete them.

He tries all sorts of ways to justify himself and mostly succeeds, but the stone's weight is still there.

It's not what he's thinking about as he makes his way from the Anvil to the library. When he doesn't have classes he usually wanders from one to the other. Late at night when neither is available, he has his own ways of getting work done. To other places, where he can work on things no one is meant to see. If something catches his attention, he'll be diverted.

A strange face seeing him and dropping everything to sprint away is one such thing. Rex doesn't chase immediately- he spends a full five seconds thinking things through. There are a couple of reasons people might run from him- 1) just his appearance. Possible but unlikely, it's not as fearsome here as elsewhere. 2) Because they know he's Black Dog and assume he's been hired to kill them. Very unlikely. 3) This late at night, when they're the only ones present, seeing anyone and running would indicate... An enemy.

A five-second headstart is a decent one, but Rex is long legged and more coordinated than his lanky frame would suggest. He's after Héctor, pacing himself. He's an endurance predator. He lets them run until he has his chance.

He does try calling in his commanding, firm tone-

"Stop."

Some people do on instinct. It's strange but its helped him get his hands on lots of people.