Post by Eira on Dec 11, 2015 22:04:55 GMT -5
“He’s never coming back, you know.”
Rubbing at her face, Eira blinks, not even sure how she got home, let alone into her kitchen.
"I must've been out hard."
"That stuff Nathan jabbed you with put you under, yes. It's what his pins tend to do, at the very least. But you're not listening - you KNOW he's not coming back, right?"
Eyebrows raising in surprise, Eira turns from setting up the coffee pot to see Alice sitting cross legged on the kitchen table, munching on an apple.
“Who, Nathan? Did he leave? Also, hello.”
Alice waves cheerily, chewing and swallowing before giving an answer. Nothing less than what one would expect from an Elder God in a pinafore, of course.
“Murdoc. He’s never coming back.”
Eira frowns, gesturing toward the hallway. “He - he’s right in there. He’s still asleep, that’s all.”
The child-thing rolls her eyes and shakes her head, a dark russet curl slipping over one blue clad shoulder. “Not HERE, I mean he’s never coming back to PCW.”
Oh my god I need coffee before this. Or possibly cocaine.
“Drugs aren’t usually good for you, though they can help you see things in a different way.”
“I didn’t even - would you at least have the decency to let me pretend you aren’t literally in my head?”
“I’m not in your head, it’s too crowded in here.”
“Then where are you?”
Alice stares at her for a long moment before waving her hands at the surface below her full skirt. “On your table.”
To hell with this. Where’s that energy shot?
Rummaging in her purse for a pink-and-foil packet she’d picked up at a surplus store about a week prior, Eira cuts open the top after giving it a dubious look.
“What’s that?”
“Ginseng, caffeine, B vitamins, guarana...” she glances again “...coffee flavor.”
“Why not just drink coffee?”
“Takes too long.” Taking a deep breath, Eira tips her head back and pours about half of it into her mouth. “That - oh, that’s not okay.” Gagging, Eira tosses the rest of it back, swallowing hard and noting the revolting, viscous texture of the shot. “Oh my god it tastes like whiskey vomit.”
Alice raises an arch eyebrow. “There speaks the voice of experience.”
Hand to her mouth, Eira rushes to the sink, thrusting her head under the faucet. Drinking directly from the tap with loud slurping noises, she gags a few more times before things seem to settle a bit. Feeling the ball of worms in her stomach untangle to more manageable but no less disgusting smaller, individual worms, she turns to face Alice’s giggles.
“I’m sorry.” Wiping her face on the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt, (read: stolen from Murdoc’s side of the closet), Eira clears her throat and brushes stray tears from her eyes.
“So what was it you were trying to do with that stuff?”
“Quick supply of energy to make my brain work and try to suss out what exactly it is you’re here for. You can’t possibly have showed up just to tell me Murdoc is never coming back to PCW.” The wriggling sensation in her stomach evolves to an uncomfortable sort of twisting, Eira making a face.
“Well no, not exactly. You need to let go of this whole Black Hand thing. It really isn’t a priority at this point.”
“Let go of - but WHY!?” Hand to her abdomen, Eira belches, noting again the vile taste of the stuff.
“You have a lot more to worry about. There's ” Polishing off the last of the apple, Alice sets the core daintily on the table next to her skirted knee.
“An organization no less pervasively damaging than the Order and you’re going to tell me not to worry about it?”
Alice shrugs. “Worry about it all you like so long as you take care of business, but that really shouldn’t be your focus right now.”
“Oh, let me guess, you’re going to tell me that my focus should be that match with Showtime?”
“No. Your focus should be that Nathan has poisoned you and you really need to throw up.”
Her stomach lurching again, the gorge rising up the back of her throat, Eira makes a beeline for the bathroom - Alice’s voice following her down the hallway.
“Might want to wake up first!”
Eira’s eyes snap open as she scrambles out of the covers towards the bathroom, heedless of her nudity. Taking all of half a second to secure her long hair back with the black elastic band always around her wrist, she gets the lid of the toilet open just in time for the first heave to grip her stomach and twist. Hard. Wave after wave surges through her as she vomits what begins to feel like parts of her very soul into the ceramic vat of filth, the arms bracing her upright beginning to tremble. Blinking back tears she stares into the bowl, surprised yet somehow not to see nothing recognizable as food (digested or otherwise) present.
Black shimmery stuff... purple mucous... bright green that can’t be natural bile... my god it looks like I ate a couple of preteens after a Hot Topic shopping spree.
“Amba? Are you alright?”
Eira turns to see Murdoc standing in the doorway, a look of concern on his face.
"Uh... yes?" Grabbing some toilet paper off the roll and wiping her mouth, she chucks it into the stool and flushes, dropping the lid closed.
"That did not look like alright, but it's good to see you finally awake."
"Mmm." Making a noncommittal noise and doing her best not to breathe at him, Eira walks further into the master bathroom and starts up the shower.
"The doctor said you might have to do that to clear the rest of the toxins. Sorry, Love."
"Might have warned me."
"While you were unconscious?" Eira opens her mouth to reply, closing it just as quick, Murdoc nodding with a wry smile. "Exactly."
Stepping into the shower, Eira closes the glass door behind her with a click, Murdoc settling on the marble bench against the opposite wall.
"You don't have to watch me shower, you know."
"Of course not, but you're naked and in the water. Why wouldn't I want to?"
Chuckling to herself she gargles a few mouthfuls of the warm spray, rinsing the foul aftertaste out of her mouth.
"What should I do?"
"In regards to what?"
"The Black Hand. Alice says I should drop it, but..."
"So drop it. If the entirety of the Order can't pull them down, what makes you think you can?"
I never did. I thought WE could.
"I don't know if I can. I do know that I can't just let them gloat about winning. I mean, this is Showtime. This is Mikey "Wants to be President", "Showtime" Wryght. It's not like I can't beat him, but at this point what does it prove?"
"More talk about credibility and getting people to see your abilities?"
"More talk about relevance and getting people to give a fuck. If I get any more firmly ensconced in mediocrity I'm going to be taking over Stormm's mantle." Squirting a few pumps of shampoo into her hand, she lathers up her hair, eyes closing at the impromptu scalp massage.
"Well, what is it you want?"
"To kick Showtime's smug face in and take the belt he stole. Doesn't matter that he didn't steal it from me. Doesn't even matter that he's in the Black Hand. He just pisses me off."
"How so? He seems inoffensive enough. Overall. Comparatively."
"That. The more qualifiers or superlatives you need to add to make someone's personality palatable, the more of an issue they are. He's a fucking rich kid playing at whatever he wants because he's a rich kid and can."
"So you want to wipe the mat with him because he's an uppity prick and you can? You'll even get the International title out of it!"
Eira thinks a long moment. "Yes. Yes that's exactly what I want."
"So do it. Bring it back, show them EXACTLY who they're fucking with. They want relevance? They want credibility? They want to see something new?"
Stepping out of the shower, Eira wraps a luxurious plum towel around her slender form. "Seems to be what they're looking for, yeah."
Murdoc envelops her in his powerful arms, drawing her close and kissing her forehead before looking into her eyes, bright blue into burning amber.
"They want it brought. Bring it."
