(OPEN) Gregor Samsa's no good, very bad week.

[blattella]

WHO: Gregor (blattella) & you! you! you! you! you!
WHAT: having a bad time around the city, exploring, being a menace.
WHERE: all over the city! City Hall, the train tunnels, and anywhere he can find clothes, namely.
WHEN: 17/07 onward.
WARNINGS: insectile body horror's the big one! bugs, body horror, buggy body horror.

Comments

train tunnels!

[blattella]

[Sure, the suggestion had been to go in pairs or larger groups. That would be wise, absolutely, and Gregor knows it down to his core. However.

However.

His coworkers are otherwise preoccupied, he's pretty sure, and he's not sure if he can do anything to actually help them. Or if he's the person who should help them, given how useless he is right now. At least this way, it feels productive. It feels like he's helping, even if he's not.

So he stands on the station platform, frown vague, insect arm clutched to his chest in an attempt to self-soothe. He'll be fine. He's fine. He's the one who got to come here with a weapon. He's fine. It doesn't matter if he goes alone, because he'll revive like always



wait a second he's not alone.]

Scheiße-- Hi. Hey. You, uh. Want...To come spelunking? I know we're probably going to loop around, just like the rest of this place, but it's worth it. Said I'd do it.

[unrequite]

Perfect timing, actually. I needed a partner.

[ Hello, Gregor. Here's Midnight, with a new pink shirt and a heavy wooden bat over his shoulder, but otherwise in the same outfit he had on during their very first meeting.

He grins at him. Lovely. Someone he trusts. ]

I replied to that post as well, you know. Never did get around to grabbing a second.

cw: mention of don's death, vague suicidal ideation yeah boy

[blattella]

Nice.

[A beat. He turns his attention down the yawning maw of the tunnel, even as the sound of an incoming train echoes down towards them. He figured as much.]

My planned second is dead right now. From what I gather, she'll show back up here anyway, so...Why not be here and poke around.

[A beat. He tries to smile, for Midnight's sake.] At least I got good company this time. And be-shirted company, at that. C'mon, let's go. [Time to jump down onto the tracks. What, like it's dangerous??? He doesn't give a shit right now.]

greg....

[unrequite]

[ Midnight reaches out and grabs Gregor by the shoulder. ]

Wait. Train first.

[ Death seeker or no, the expedition will not continue if Gregor becomes a splat under the train's tracks. More than being down a man, Midnight will simply feel too demoralized to continue. ]

Thanks for coming to help with the shirtless incident, by the by. I think Sylvain was a bit out of his depth by the end of it, poor lad.

his fucking kids keep dying bro.....his kids keep dying

[blattella]

Mm. Guess that'd be pretty bad to make you witness, huh? Normally when I die, I just crumple into a heap and the claw just sticks out. So I hear. It's kind of funny.

[I mean, it is. It's just his clothes, some hair, some glasses, and The Fucking Claw. Damn, brother. Pile of hair.

Anyway. He stands there placidly, swaying as the train wooshes past and threatens to blow his cigarette clean out of his mouth. No fighting, just chilling. Staring down the tunnel.] No need to thank me, though. You two are good guys. Only makes sense to come and help, right? And folks were getting a bit, ah...Shirty over it. Heh.

[bemist]

[ Gebura's got a baseball bat slung over her shoulder because of course she does, expression a little flat but she never does well with not doing anything (beyond closed-eye meditation) and so here she is. ]

... You might've said you'd do it, but you look like you'd rather not. You sure you want to?

[ It's not a "no", but it's also maybe an offer that she can just go check it out alone? Guy looks like he's ready to vibrate out of existence. ]

[blattella]

I don't really care, to be honest. What's going to happen to us down there, bar getting hit by a train if we're not careful?

[his kids keep on dying and he's helpless. This is just a bandaid measure so that he doesn't really pull a Gregor Samsa moment. Again.

Anyway! He looks at Gebura's bat, and shrugs. At least they're both armed. That's a relief, even if he doubts that they'll need it at all. There doesn't appear to be any signs of life outside of them, the installed cast, so what is there to fear in a pristine, dark tunnel?]

C'mon. No use sitting here debating whether I want to be here or not, when we could at least be discovering something. [Doesn't matter if a train's coming or not. He's going to hop down onto the tracks and start moseying.]

[bemist]

[ Pristine dark anythings should never be trusted and even though there's never been any sign of monster-like activity so far, Gebura isn't taking any chances.

So down she jumps, striding beside him, maybe slightly past him. She unfortunately has long legs, but he's probably used to Tall Ladies in his line of work. ]

Fair enough. Seems like the bigger threats right now are the other people instead of unmanned trains.

[blattella]

[Fair And Wise, queen. Fair And Wise. Who knows, maybe this is really a test for reactions to sudden Abnormality attacks in times of "full" peace or something??? Could be anything around the next turn.

.......Or he could just end up having to jog a little to keep up, which is about standard.]

Both a surprise and not, isn't it. The nights are safe, we don't want for anything, and that means we're all idle enough to start killing. I wouldn't have minded if we got a few more weeks of boredom, to be honest.

's out there now, though. Can't undo it. Just going to have to be careful about who we're allies with, I guess.

[Not a dig, though he realises about ten seconds too late that it sounded passive-aggressive or something and grimaces. man he needs a smoke, do pardon him for a moment while he lights up. Normally he'd offer one, but he's getting used to being more of a minority than usual here.]

generic forever 21!

[blattella]

[He's been promising to go clothes shopping (to himself) for the past week or so, and yet, he'd only made the one trip out with Roland a few days ago. That's probably not enough to get him a week's worth of clothing, and there's only so much more laundry duty he can handle before he snaps.
After a little exploration, wherein he pays attention to the actual generic shops on the street past the ones that stock food and drink, and...Gregor has found himself in the generic Forever 21.

...Which isn't so bad, except for the fact that he's so unaccustomed to something like 'self expression' that he's at a loss as to what, exactly, to pick. White button-ups are nice, but should he pick something more casual while he's here? Should he pick out another coat and save the work one that he can't even wear? He can't pick anything navy, that's too much like Hermann, but otherwise...

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he browses through a rack of graphic tees, teeth bared in a hesitant grimace and claw practically pinned to his side. This isn't good. He's freaking out over picking out clothing. Would it be weird if he wore a striped shirt and overalls like Don showed him? Would he look good in that? No? No, he can't copy her, that's weird


help him he's having a panic attack over being given actual personal freedom]

SLIDES IN HERE ON MY KNEES

[fussiest]

Hah! By the Lesser Lord, I knew it!

[ cutting through the brimming, broiling vat of existential crises being circulated like a pot of overboiled spaghetti on the edge of a yawning cliff: the sharp cry of someone who's possibly just stepped off over said edge and is now enjoying a rapid free-fall towards some unknown end. at least, kaveh thinks, he will be rather happy once he impacts the proverbial ground, so long as said proverbial ground is made of slightly loose factory-standard stitching with just enough colour-bleed to suggest that nothing in this city is perfect. perfect enough, but not perfect. the knit dress is carefully removed from its rack as kaveh double-checks his finding, then for good measure, taking a second, stitch-perfect knit dress, because you can't be too careful about providing a control for whatever it is you're trying to prove. he comes out with an armful of blues and whites, the titian sunset of his eyes bright with something something both electric and eclectic as he thoughtlessly descends upon the first person he sees.

that person is gregor. gregor deserves better. but kaveh doesn't have better - kaveh has three days of no sleep and a mind akin to a slippery bar of soap on a hot summer's day. the exuberant joy speaks to something like mania, midnight coffee runs and an undergrad's terror of an insubstantial upcoming deadline. kaveh holds up the white and blue dress. he crows: ] The stitching isn't perfect after all. Look here, [ here, the tilted proximity of the dress says, ] a bit of the blue is bleeding into the white, a single off-stitch as if someone had imagined it from memory through sheer remembered rage. I would be too, if I had a dress like this with a visible flaw like that, but this is either proof that there is individualisation in this city, or that someone had come in through here and pricked a stitch just to be mean about it. That -

[ ends there, actually. the spiral of kaveh's thoughts slips out from under him. it's the man's eyes, kaveh thinks. the far-off stare as if there is something existential coming his way and there's no good way to get off the tracks before it comes trundling along. something prickles along the edges of kaveh's conscience as he lowers the dress, leaning in with a tilt. his brows furrow. kaveh looks. ]

Um. Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble. Or startle you, really. Are you quite alright?

AIR GUITARS UR MAJESTIC INTRO YYYYEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH

[blattella]

[That cry absolutely does nothing for Gregor's existential panic, though at least he's kind of together enough that it does nothing more than make him jump. A lot more than it deserves, really, but just a jump is pretty good, as far as Gregor's possible fear reactions go! It's probably not necessary to note the way he's watching Kaveh's giddy delirium with wide, wary eyes, backing away minutely even as he's approached, the attempt of an innate people pleaser who's still afraid to be around people, but. That's what I just did anyway.

Best to humour this stranger, get him out of harm's way as soon as possible if he's going to continue to induce this sort of feeling in Gregor's fraying nerves. So he leans forward and looks at the stitching, humming non-commitally as though sweat's not already beading under his unbrushed bangs. He's a second or two too late to look from dress to eyes, and his smile's a little too anemic to be anything other than forced, but he's. He's trying. Oh Wings is he trying.]

I'm fine, buddy! Just not really used to picking out my own clothes. But that's interesting, what you just said. --It doesn't sound like I meant that. I did mean it. I would've thought that it was like all the other stuff here, just pulled out of the void, but if it's imperfect stitching, that means something organic's involved, right? That's.

[Deep breath. Calm down. Even if his arm's on 24-hour nerfed slowdown, thus keeping it from twisting and curving wickedly in an attempt to get rid of the stressor, it's still itching unpleasantly already.] That's important to note. I'm glad you noticed it. Not people actually sewing it, at least not in this place, but maybe externally? Or whatever core there is to this city, whatever organic thing drives it, trying to recreate garments?

[oh he sounds so fucking sane right now.]

YODELS

[fussiest]

[ oh, kaveh thinks. a bug arm. that's the first thought. it's got a coxa and a trochanter and everything. kaveh's only nominally knowledgeable about the parts of an insect's anatomy, and most of it is through osmosis during late-nights at the akademiya over cheat drinks at lambad's while some of the amurta juniors made a fuss about their animal physiology courses. his second thought: does he need to get that aerated? tighnari needed special oils for his fur, but even that didn't stop him from shedding all over lambad's couches every time they go out for dinner, and kaveh'd find long green hairs in his clothes for weeks on end afterwards. did insects breathe through their carapaces? this city hasn't been good for anything save for humans, and even for humans it's sort of lousy.

and then, at the tailend of that spiraling thought: oh no. on day threes, kaveh feels as if he's been hung out in the sun to desiccate. the entire world is a blur that can only be described as a little too post-modern. but that doesn't dull the rapid sublimation of feeling, which finds its wending way through him much in the way of a careening train against the too-quick beat of his heart. the man's heaving a deep breath and his smile is a little crooked, much in the way of a dried-up stream limping towards its ancestral bed. he looks much the way kaveh feels. kaveh winces, a solid shift of his shoulders in something like felt sympathy. ]

Thanks. You know, just before this, I had an argument with my - well, not roommate, not friend - but we had an argument, and he insisted that this entire place was a dream. Can you believe it? A dream. I was off to find evidence that nothing is quite as perfect as a dream can be, because who dreams of a slipped stitch?

Ah, but I'll be honest; I've been looking at dresses for far too long, and far too frantically. I might've pulled that stitch myself going through that rack for the seventh time. [ kaveh breathes in, and out, and finally lets his arms down save for the drape of the dresses. he offers the man a wan smile in turn. ] Sorry again about that. I got it out of my system.

Are you really alright, though? [ kaveh looks, towards the racks, and back, ] And what do you mean by you're not used to picking out your own clothes? Is that what's gotten you stuck here?

[blattella]

[When curious about the baseline of the City's residents, simply look to this bug man, who will probably be broadcasting it all loud and clear on his haggard face! Okay, so Gregor kind of always looks like shit by design, but. Yeah. Man, does he feel it even more, when faced with beautiful people.

Ah well. Not a new feeling, that. And it's much more interesting to actually listen, even if it takes more effort than normal, because Kaveh really is saying some interesting stuff, and]

I really need to get to work putting a database of theories and information together already. Folks have all sorts, y'know? It's fascinating. Don't think I've heard the dream one yet, personally, but I've heard people say that they're wondering if we're all dead. That's crock, because I can't die permanently yet, and we don't even die permanently here, but we do die.

[Wait. That's not the point. Oh god, he's crossing threads of his own here, and it should be about the clothing. But for a good few weeks, Gregor's been preoccupied with these theories, with the what and how and why, so it makes sense that he'd latch onto that, perhaps.]

Sorry. Tell your not-buddy that there's a crackpot here who thinks the City's either an experiment, with unknown aims, or some sort of living thing. Perhaps the shared dream for peace. But it nurtures us, and wants to guide us into living peacefully. Alcohol doesn't replace itself as fast in the stores. Moral nannying, I think

[He leans on the rack a little too heavily, chin tucked into the crook of his flesh and blood arm, and returns that smile in full. That's more like it, bugman. You can do it!] But I'm tired of handwashing my uniform. My life's been all uniforms, is all. Corp uniform. This uniform. Hoodies and sweatpants otherwise. I should really dress up. You're fashionable...You think you could help me look less garbage? We can talk about the City more, if you want. Really give you an information bomb for the pseudo-roomie.

city hall for the greater good!

[blattella]

[Another promise: going to City Hall, doing a little gentle investigation, maybe a recreation of what one Mr. Rico Dredd had done not too long ago, just to see if he ends up in cuffs as well.

Might as well, right?

Catch Gregor standing out the front of City Hall, mumbling over his checklist to make sure he recreates everything as closely as he can. Looking mildly insane. But who isn't, here?]

Scale walls. Can't do that, might get booked for property damage. Go to the rooftop. Check out the view. Use the gents' on top floor, then can come back and use it on any other floors another day. Okay. Okay, I got this. Why not. Let's do it.

[And yet, he hasn't moved. What if he does end up in cuffs, and Sinclair can't tear his arm off in the end?]

haha................

[gripper]

( Kromer, like usual, visits City Hall to see if anything is new! different! exciting! Gregor is only some of these things but also kind of none of them. Still, he's the only one of Sinclair's group she hasn't formally spoken with in person yet, and so... )

Taking a tour of City Hall today, Buggy? ( She's going to refrain from touching him, but she's leaning over his shoulder to look at his checklist. Pays to be tall, and quick as she steps back with a chuckle. ) That's one hell of a terrible list you've got there, if that's the case.

the totally normal thread for totally normal people....

[blattella]

[As soon as he hears Kromer's voice (too lost in his own cowardice to notice her footsteps, the warmth of another person leaning over his shoulder), he instantly scrambles forward in a most undignified fashion. At least he's quick to regain his balance and pivot sharply, face screwed up in utter disgust.

As though he's looking at a bug. Haha. Never mind the way bile's already sharp on his throat at the way she calls him Buggy so casually.]

It's an experiment, Cumber. [Now he's just being obstinate! Rude!] Recreating as much of a set of circumstances, even if they're weird.

[A beat. He motions, but it's with his claw, and said claw doesn't lower once he's done gesturing. The point stays nice and level, thank you very much. If he has to come packing his only weapon, he's going to damn well use it. Thanks Mommy!] What are you doing here? Buddy.

just regular people doing regular things and having regular conversations...

[gripper]

( The correction is on the tip of her tongue, but she swallows it. Doesn't matter, like he doesn't matter, really. )

I check up on this place once a day at minimum, among other places, to see if there's anything new. We can't get complacent that it might never change, after all. ( A director doing her due diligence. A nice young woman making sure she's got an overall good reputation with the people around them. ) Whose circumstances are you recreating?

[immortalpoet]

...

[There's an ominous presence standing behind him, tilting his head forward to gaze at what he expects is an actual checklist, before realizing....Gregor is just mumbling to himself.]

[A raspy sigh exits his throat.]

Who's going to book you for property damage, Gregor?

[blattella]

Ah--

[Now that, all of that, that cuts right through Gregor's stupor! Mostly because it's so familiar by now that it's reassuring to feel, and he whips around with a sheepish grimace, placation in his every move.]

...Don't know. This place. But I'm trying to figure out what a guy on the internet did here to get himself in cuffs.

That's what they do. They put us in cuffs. No one's noticed who or anything, and Wings know we're all on watch for it, but it just happens. Force of nature kind of thing. But the guy thinks he didn't commit any crime, so I was going over what he said he did that day, here. If he got cuffed for messing around here without doing anything worth punishing, then they're hiding something here, right?

[immortalpoet]

...Excuse me.

[He's actually holding up a hand as if to stop the man from rambling more, his eyebrows knitting together with a curious sort of confusion.]

Someone got handcuffed? Who?

for @petsthedog, improved babes

[blattella]

[In this era of Post-Gone Quixote (the peak of my wit), it's a struggle to fucking keep it together. But he's trying to be so normal and domestic, to get back to normal so that he doesn't corrode and distort and warp beyond what this Gregor should look like.

And he does almost look like he has his shit together! Mostly, almost! He's managed to get a whole bunch of groceries, bagged up neatly, waddling through the cool night air (because it's easier to think now, at night, and he hates bright light anyway). It's all well and good, uneventful bar the way he nearly drops a carton of eggs, but

ah. That's.

That's a whole person, right? He can hear someone. More grunts than anything, grunts and mumbles or something quiet, but it's noises, human, and it's not the sound of a happy person at all. In fact, it's...A noise he's used to hearing, and making, when he was younger. And it's not like it's hard at all, or an imposition for him to follow the noises to the source.

But he's quiet about it. No point in scaring someone already going through it. Just gently padding in closer, closer, closer, until he's right on whoever it is. And this-- this guy, a veritable stranger thus far, is absolutely suffering about as much as Gregor recalls the terrors putting him through.]

Hey.

[Quiet, calm, and he squats a good few metres away from Shinjiro's agony, just in case. Good thing he got some bottled water, huh...] Hey, buddy. It's okay. When you wake up, I'm here to help.

[Ah, he's feeling better already, with some sort of goal right in front of his eyes.]

for @halbird, The Night Of Gone Quixote

[blattella]

[It's without ceremony, of course. Just a knock, no rhythm, nothing jolly about it like normal, but Greg's going to waltz on in nonetheless. He announced himself, that's all that matters, he's coming into your apartment Sinclair sorry it's happening he's here he's got a bag in one hand and his claw's looking particularly sharp.

(Do not ask how. Don't.)

Anyway. He's just going to waltz in the fucking unnanounced otherwise, putting his bag on the kitchen counter and putting things away whether he's greeted or not.]

Yo, Sinclair. I'll be your security for tonight. Brought some gummy bears. Got a bottle of champagne. Only the one, though. Don't want to cause a shortage.

[There is also a box of chocolates. He slits the plastic open and reaches inside for one, two, maybe three, and shoves them in his face. Bugncle needs some fucking sugar ok]

...She really did it, huh?

two totally okay guys being okay having an okay sleepover they're okay

[halbird]

[ to sinclair's credit, he doesn't jump. whether he expected it or not, whether it's the events from earlier and everything that just made him less capable of being shocked and more tired or whether it's just general character development—

—it's all of these things. he isn't tired enough to look a little confused at the mention of "security" (noting gregor's sharpened arm), less confused at all of the stuff. the former he decides to drop, as he opts to help with the Things that gregor's brought.

... including the baggage that comes with that sentence. for sinclair, who had opted to watch (and, likely interrupt, while completely failing—) as he'd decided not to look away from the results of his decisions, the answer to the question comes easily. as much as this was don's choice, the weight of his responsibility was heavy when she had asked him if he hadn't wanted to know.

looking over the chocolates, and then to their little board of neatly handwritten household rules on a board on the wall (newly added: 5. depend on each other), maybe he made it too obvious that he did. ]

Mm. I tried to stop her, but I—

[ couldn't. even if he tries, he always falls a little short. that line of thinking may not be Great right now. ]

—We're not very good at listening to each other, are we? Though... I guess it's mostly Don Quixote and I.

[ this is a joke. it's a joke. because gregor has done nothing wrong in his life and these blondes are giving him an ulcer, ]

this is the Okay Normal Stable People Post, where the rules are made up and sanity doesn't matter!

[blattella]

Stop it. Neither of us could've stopped her, and I remembered that soon as I talked to her about it. It's Don. Only Vergilius had any hopes of stopping her, and even then, without work and all the trappings of a Fixer...He couldn't, right?

It's our Don. We just have to rely on her.

[Yeah, he saw that rules list. Cute. Accurate. Important. He picks up a cherry cordial, the last one in the box, and tosses it to Sinclair without even bothering to give him a head's up.]

...Still. Won't lie and act like I'm not, y'know. [Wiggle-waggles hand.] Angepisst. You two have already been through way too much, here and at home. It's stupid, when we come from where we do, but I wish I could shield you guys somehow, at least here.

[So much for that, you old fuck! All he has now is three tins of spam and some microwave rice, which he gets to work 'prepping' as best he can.] Anyway.

At least Bossman's here now, so...We won't be here much longer.