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outofclothes) wrote2014-08-01 02:24 pm
outofclothes) wrote2014-08-01 02:24 pm
||| 020 spam
spam - vin.
[Where he is exactly doesn't come immediately to Stark. He's not sure if this is another illusion - some more hoodoo Mason's managed to throw his way somehow as a last ditch failsafe effort - or he really is dead for sure this time. Death isn't exactly what he expected it to be though, he's gotta be honest.]
[He lies there for a while on the floor, watching the room spin around him and slowly, it dawns upon him. He's in his room - his old room with Alice - but Alice isn't here. She isn't popping up with some crytpic advice or dying in front of him. He's just here in this room by himself. He's back on the Barge. So he did die. Sorta. He still hasn't quite figured out which it is with this place and death, especially now after his latest venture in Hell.]
[Speaking of Ventures, he should find Vin.]
[Stark squints up at his ceiling for a moment before slowly pushing himself up to his feet. He can't remember ever feeling this weak before and feels himself over for any sign of injury. Of course, there's nothing there but the cool metal of Lucifer's armor.]
...Fuck, [he mutters and starts making his way across the room to the door. He takes a small detour to one side, feeling extremely woozy and dizzy. Stark grins crookedly imagining he probably looks as bad as he feels. Maybe he should grab a shower and then find Vin if only not to assault her with the smells of Hell first thing. They might be closer to him than Vin anyways and he doesn't fully trust his ability to walk a straight line if his progress to the door is any indication.]
[He manages to get about as far as outside the door before the edge of his vision goes just a little too black and he feels the floor shifting to a different plane of gravity than he's used to.]
[Maybe he'll take a nap down here instead. The floor is cool anyway and he seems to be holding it down. He'll really have to see about turning down the thermostat Downtown when he gets back though. If he gets back. So, without moving a muscle, Stark adjusts his plan. Nap first, then Vin or shower second.]
spam - open.
[Eventually, Stark can get Vin to go away. It takes some doing, but she can't sit there all day and Stark won't let her. Besides, he doesn't have any intention of cooling his heels in the infirmary for long.]
[He's feeling a little better from swooning just outside his door which means he's good enough to not be there by his logic. This logic, of course, is inherently flawed, but logic's never been Stark's strong suit even on a good day. So, he pushes himself out of bed and makes his way to the inmate showers though there are plenty of times he's stopped, leaning on a wall in the hallway. When he does get to the showers, he doesn't bother to strip or even close the curtain, just turns it on and sits. After being covered in dirt, blood, what he hopes was mud, and everything in between, Stark's relieved to just feel the water for a while. He alternates between just sitting with his eyes closed and spacing out looking at his new bug-machine arm trying to determine just what the hell this week has been for him.]
[Maybe it's stubbornness. Maybe it's stupidity. It's possibly both. But Stark doesn't head straight back to his cabin. Instead, he makes his way up to the deck. Lying down on a bench, he opts to dry out here than sit and stew in his cabin. Not that he isn't still stewing, but it's a more public stewing if only because he can't quite figure out if he's exhausted or restless yet.]
[And, of course, at no point has he bothered to cover up Lucifer's armor, but he does keep his new left arm as tucked away as possible.]
[Where he is exactly doesn't come immediately to Stark. He's not sure if this is another illusion - some more hoodoo Mason's managed to throw his way somehow as a last ditch failsafe effort - or he really is dead for sure this time. Death isn't exactly what he expected it to be though, he's gotta be honest.]
[He lies there for a while on the floor, watching the room spin around him and slowly, it dawns upon him. He's in his room - his old room with Alice - but Alice isn't here. She isn't popping up with some crytpic advice or dying in front of him. He's just here in this room by himself. He's back on the Barge. So he did die. Sorta. He still hasn't quite figured out which it is with this place and death, especially now after his latest venture in Hell.]
[Speaking of Ventures, he should find Vin.]
[Stark squints up at his ceiling for a moment before slowly pushing himself up to his feet. He can't remember ever feeling this weak before and feels himself over for any sign of injury. Of course, there's nothing there but the cool metal of Lucifer's armor.]
...Fuck, [he mutters and starts making his way across the room to the door. He takes a small detour to one side, feeling extremely woozy and dizzy. Stark grins crookedly imagining he probably looks as bad as he feels. Maybe he should grab a shower and then find Vin if only not to assault her with the smells of Hell first thing. They might be closer to him than Vin anyways and he doesn't fully trust his ability to walk a straight line if his progress to the door is any indication.]
[He manages to get about as far as outside the door before the edge of his vision goes just a little too black and he feels the floor shifting to a different plane of gravity than he's used to.]
[Maybe he'll take a nap down here instead. The floor is cool anyway and he seems to be holding it down. He'll really have to see about turning down the thermostat Downtown when he gets back though. If he gets back. So, without moving a muscle, Stark adjusts his plan. Nap first, then Vin or shower second.]
spam - open.
[Eventually, Stark can get Vin to go away. It takes some doing, but she can't sit there all day and Stark won't let her. Besides, he doesn't have any intention of cooling his heels in the infirmary for long.]
[He's feeling a little better from swooning just outside his door which means he's good enough to not be there by his logic. This logic, of course, is inherently flawed, but logic's never been Stark's strong suit even on a good day. So, he pushes himself out of bed and makes his way to the inmate showers though there are plenty of times he's stopped, leaning on a wall in the hallway. When he does get to the showers, he doesn't bother to strip or even close the curtain, just turns it on and sits. After being covered in dirt, blood, what he hopes was mud, and everything in between, Stark's relieved to just feel the water for a while. He alternates between just sitting with his eyes closed and spacing out looking at his new bug-machine arm trying to determine just what the hell this week has been for him.]
[Maybe it's stubbornness. Maybe it's stupidity. It's possibly both. But Stark doesn't head straight back to his cabin. Instead, he makes his way up to the deck. Lying down on a bench, he opts to dry out here than sit and stew in his cabin. Not that he isn't still stewing, but it's a more public stewing if only because he can't quite figure out if he's exhausted or restless yet.]
[And, of course, at no point has he bothered to cover up Lucifer's armor, but he does keep his new left arm as tucked away as possible.]
spam
[Her lips twist, her body language going tight and unreadable. It's clear she's anxious, but beyond that she closes herself off.]
Once you've told me what else is wrong. What you do now. What you . . . want to do.
spam
[So, he just chooses to focus on what he can answer rather than what he's turning up empty-handed for.]
I might have broken Tartarus. And by "might have" I mean I basically punched my way through it back up into Hell.
spam
Why do you break things so much?
[It's how she says she loves him. Because she does. Even if she's still angry, this is one of those moments that reminds her unequivocally that he is her friend, her inmate, her family. Nothing and no amount of anger will ever change that.]
spam
Hey, I gotta be good at something, right?
[Which is to say he knows and he tries to give back what he gets because truth be told, he's glad he has Vin in his corner. He knows that she doesn't have to be and he wouldn't blame anyone for choosing not to be. But Vin chose differently.]
spam
[She wrinkles her nose again, tucking her chin on her knees and regarding him with careful scrutiny.]
You should probably shower.
spam
[He isn't even being remotely sarcastic either. Stark hates the smell of Hell. It's not something that exactly washes off, but anything he can do to speed up the process of smelling less like hellfire and brimstone is okay by him.]
[He frowns. Normally by now, he'd be feeling better. It looks like he lost more than just a nagging voice in the back of his head and freaky angel vision.]
I never thought I'd say this, but I am already kinda starting to miss St. James.
[How much weaker he is without the angel around remains to be exactly seen, but if this is any indication, it's going to suck. A lot. It's almost enough to deal with listening to his preachy bullshit.]
I'd miss him less if this thing's batteries were working though, [he says, tapping on Lucifer's armor.]
spam
[Now she looks at him through her hair, not coy but a little shy. She's never quite figured out how to talk about St. James in the right way.]
I thought you hated him. Are you--
Is it lonely? [Being alone in your own head like that.]
spam
[Okay, it's a lot fucked up. But nothing about Stark's life over the past decade has been anything less than short of fucked up.]
Lonely? [Stark shakes his head and then subtly puts a hand on the floor to keep from tipping over. He should probably refrain from too many head movements until this dizziness passes.] No. It's not lonely. I mean the jackass was quiet up until I got bit and he decided to take me down the choir boy route.
But I mean without him, I'm just...
[He actually doesn't know what word should come next. Just what? Just Stark? Just human? Just a monster? Just out of excuses? Stark can't figure out which is right. Not that he had all the answers when the angel was around, but at least there was something a little more solid to work with, something he was used to even if he didn't get a name for it until a few months ago.]
[So he just makes a motion with his hand like she should know.]