citylogs | ( closed ) the only ones who need love are the ones who don't receive enough

WHO: roland and certain people
WHAT: roland came back after disappearing mysterious and realized some really bad things. plotting comment for reference.
WHERE: the garden
WHEN: around the middle of the month, before the event
WARNINGS: body horror, violence, talks about murder and other nihilistic shit. also major project moon spoilers. see his opt-out for more info.

[ roland emerged out of the darkness like a dream.

or rather, he stumbles into the relatively new location as if he woke up from a horrible nightmare, clutching at his head as he makes his way towards the tea-party setup. this was the last place he'd remembered before vanishing, but the details were foggy. he wasn't even aware how long it's been. all he knew was that he met someone terrible who gave him equally terrible news, but he's used to disappointments -- even more so in this desolate imitation of a city.

someone had left green tea on the table, still hot. binah had told him that green tea is good for him, so he may as well take the load off and hope that the drink will clear his mind, and make him forget the bad news he'd received from argalia.

ah, yes. argalia is here, angelica's own flesh and blood. angelica had come back wrong, he gleefully. right. totally normal.

...

luckily, this isn't the first time this abnormality has taken over roland. he's used to the way the muscular sinews bloom across his body like a second skin (or even a flesh wound), the multitude of eyes blinking themselves open and roving their pupils around to scan the area. a gnarled leg of a bird sprouts from the top of his head, flexing its digits. his own left arm, meanwhile, has morphed into a bulbous club made of muscle and claw, which he is using to thrash at a nearby flowerbed for speaking out of line. ]

Why is he here... Why. Why. Tell me...

[ "i know why he's here," the half-dead flowers insist. "nothing ever goes my way. this city is out to get me, too."

but just because he's too engrossed in destroying the flowers within reach, it doesn't mean that the bulging eyes won't notice whoever comes into the garden, their unblinking gazes boring into anyone's eyes should anyone stumbles this sorry sight. he is making quite the ruckus, after all. ]

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Daan, you say, but the doctor is currently out of the office, old boy! It's just you and me.

[Another laugh, indifferent but just as energetic as the last. The cat slides out of the way of the meaty club swinging for him.]

Now, if I were at full capacity... I could rip you apart, my friend. Alas! It seems we aren't to our usual strength, are we?

So shall we see what bones I can break?

["Here we are again, my old friend. Back to this deep pit of despair. Perhaps this was your home all along, Daan?" one of the flowers purr in the cat's voice. "Who loves you but me?"

Pocketcat himself is abruptly reaching for Roland's more normal looking arm, very much intent on attempting to snap it at the elbow if successful.]

[ the distortion has completely engulfed daan, it looks like. at least roland is still himself, somewhat. but can he be truly himself even in this world?

no. no, he could not.

roland and his multiple eyes are still processing the connection between daan and the cat, too distracted to notice that the cat had grabbed ahold of his arm until he's seconds too late. there's a resounding crack as pocketcat breaks his arm, and roland screams. he hollers, then uses his meaty club as retaliation upon pocketcat's grinning head. ]

Ah, what a scream! He'll remember this, echoing in the brainpan! How thrilling! Though it seems you're out of words now, aren't you, darling? What a shame!

[The meaty club swings toward his head, but the cat does brace up an arm. Naturally, there's a loud CRUNCH in the air as the club shatters bone, squelching as it rips into flesh.]

Tsk tsk.

[The cat kicks out, aiming to slam it against Roland's chest to knock him over.]

Now, be a good patient and stay down. I plan to fulfill my side of this little exchange!

[ roland isn't a good patient, actually. he's not really used to staying down even when the odds are against him. he's stubborn to a fault, and... well. he didn't get to where he was in the peak of his career as a fixer if he's going to let broken bones stop him, despite him letting out a cry just now. ]

I don't... care about you. Not one bit. I need to get... to Daan himself.

[ "that idiot. i'm beyond help. there's no fixing me."

the force does knock roland over, but he is going to deliver a powerful kick on the other man's shins in hopes of making him fall down, too. get on his level, punk. ]

[The kick is successful, and the cat does knock him over -- but he falls forward, landing on the mauled arm to prop himself up, hovering over Roland. Pocketcat doesn't even utter a noise of pain at the ripped up limb or putting any pressure on it. It's not useful beyond being a mere prop anyway right now.]

He's mine right now. I wonder whose fault that is? Ha, I wonder if I get to keep him forever this time!

[With the good hand, the cat brings down his claws to drag down Roland's chest, to carve into flesh. Not deadly, not to kill, but to make him hurt and bleed.]

[ mine? is daan even capable of letting someone own him again? the man should know solitude as much as roland does. they are kindred spirits, after all.

it would've been easy to let pocketcat do what he pleases. maybe roland and daan can truly be one and the same if that were to happen.

and yet.

roland cries out in pain, mutated hand grasping at his bleeding front. it would've been enough to stop him completely. but daan... daan wouldn't like that.

"daan... you fucking idiot."

this is probably his final shot. if he clubs the cat right on the head as hard as he can, it might be enough to knock the guy out. so roland grits his teeth, sucks in a breath, before raising his club once more to bring it down pocketcat's head. ]

[The sequence of events are as follows:

The cat's pockets are ever so deep. And thus, with the hand still functioning, he reaches inside of a pocket and reveals the seeds. With a deep purr, Pocketcat is keeping true to his wicked word, aiming to shove the seeds into Roland's mouth.

As he does so, the club comes down, smashing over the Pocketcat's head.]

...Dear me.

[Medicine: given. Club: taken to the head.

The cat collapses, either dazed or unconscious.]

( closed ) the only ones who need love are the ones who don't receive enough

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THIS TAG SLIPPED THROUGH ME AHHHH

ALL GOOD BUD, also lemme know if this does not work for u