[If Stein were present in person, he'd see the impact his firm instructions had on his student: Kid shrinks from the tablet, shoulders raised and head bowed. He might be distracted, but he knows he's treading a dangerous line, as well. If he could just get his head on straight and concentrate.]
[Kid will take any familiar face that is real, at this point. In fact, he would take just about anyone for company--the distraction, the anchor to reality, would be infinitely better than this.]
Can't fall back to sleep. Very noisy. I've tried to rest. Ate a little bit. [He's trying hard, really. That shriek sounds like Patti and he presses his hands to his ears.] How soon is soon?
That's because it's not real. [Kid shrinks from the tablet, shaking his head. Now a third voice, he doesn't quite recognize it, but he doesn't need to because it sounds pained and desperate and that's enough.] Since...that dream. I can hear are people screaming, but nobody's here. It...it won't stop. Knowing that doesn't make it stop.
[At least he knows it's not real, right?] I will count. I'm counting.
[And true to his word, Kid will be counting. To the best of his distracted, addled ability at least. On the back of his map, writing numbers.]
I know. Just remind yourself it isn't real, and try to ignore it.
[It takes time, another half hour at least, but then there's a loud knock on the cafe door and Stein lets himself in. He looks terrible, exhausted and worn down, shivering under his layers of mismatched fabric, hollowed out and too thin.
But he is here, and he grins at Death the Kid, with a chipper wave.]
[The knocking startles him, far more than it should, and he jumps nearly out of his skin. He knocks his tablet to the floor and his scrap-paper map goes with it (he made it to one-thousand-two-hundred-and-fifty-seven. A hideous number.)
Much like Stein, Kid doesn't look well. He's thinned out beneath his jacket, and clearly not slept. And maybe he lied when he said he ate a little bit. How could he eat when people have been screaming for help?
Kid is unsurprisingly still holding his hands over his ears, trying to block out the shrieking, the begging. More often than not it's Liz and Patti. Always Liz and Patti. When he closes his eyes he can see them again as he had in the dream, dying over and over again. He shudders.]
[Will Death the Kid even recognize him? Not because of his disaster of an outfit or the disaster of a beard he's grown while living in a world with razors, but because of the lack of soul perception. Stein has no idea how much a death god relies on physical appearance and how much is that finely honed, overactive sixth sense. He has the chance to study that now, in a limited capacity.]
That's right. [His tone's reassuring, rather than mocking. Somehow.]
[Kid cringes, evidence that somewhere within his unusual behavior is the familiar neurosis of disliking the number seven.
Stein is right to question, at least somewhat, how much Kid might recognize him. He is, instinctively, looking for the signs of the other man's soul that are familiar--and struggling when he doesn't immediately see them. Much like forcing himself to ignore the voices that he knew were not real, forcing himself to rely on physical attributes alone was harder than Kid anticipated. He would find it easier with faces he met exclusively here in Norfinbury, but Stein does not fit that bill.
He does not remove his hands. He barely glances up, his gaze still firmly on the table in front of him.] I have food and water, Professor. If you need any. We should share, correct?
[Right? Let's talk about that. Let's talk about anything, but the fact that we're stuck in a frozen wasteland, where one bad dream can result in days of hearing voices nonstop.]
[Kid wasn't sure he could eat, even if he tried. Stein's arrival was too much of a reminder of things that were different. That were wrong. It was easy to ignore that he couldn't see souls when he hadn't seen anyone in person. Kid is fairly certain Stein was better-kept than this, that he didn't permit himself to remain unshaven and raggedy--but he can't wrap his head around it for certain and like everything else about this frozen hellscape it is stressing him out.]
That's not what I asked. [Stein raises one hand in a motion any student of the DWMA (anyone who grew up in Death City, really) would recognize. Kid has about five seconds to correct his answer before getting chopped on the head.
It's not his preferred method of physically scolding his students, but it's one that Kid is sure to comprehend, even in his addled state.]
Stein threatening to reaper-chop Kid will never not be funny to me now. I will forever giggle
[Kid has been witness to many reaper chops in his lifetime and victim of few, but Stein's gesture does in fact produce the desired effect...if not the desired answer.]
...yesterday morning. I am not hungry. [He's places emphasis on this, as if it will excuse his behavior. Still, with his gaze averted and thin shoulders sagging it's clear that the young reaper is expecting to be chastised.]
[Kid has the tendency to act most his age when he feels he is in trouble--this very moment no exception to that rule. Worse is that Stein is forcing him to spell the situation out. He's not unintelligent...but he is a nervous wreck. A nervous wreck who has hardly been able to eat since arriving in Norfinbury.
He'd be more irritated about having to explain if the yelling had not picked up again. His eyes dart away from the table to the other side of the room and he stiffens, gears very obviously turning. He listens, watches for thirty seconds. He has to know for sure there is nothing. Covering his ears, Kid presses on.]
I am well aware of what the sensation of hunger is like, but at home food intake is far less of a requirement than here. I have gone days without before with no issue.
I am not hungry. [Squeezing his eyes shut, Kid shakes his head. If Stein looks hard he might find the hint of a flush on his student's face. It is a bit embarassing.] When...when I am nervous, I am not hungry. Does that explain?
It does, but that doesn't mean you can just decide not to eat. Your mind and body won't function properly without food and rest. [Stein understands entirely what it's like to not be hungry and to force yourself to eat anyway. He does it all the time.]
I keep trying, but... [But it's thus far been a tedious exercise. It isn't just not being hungry but an uneasy queasiness that has made the act difficult.
But he will try to follow instructions, and digs into his bag, producing a small roll. He has absolutely no desire to eat it, picking off a small piece. If his stomach turns as he hears another disembodied voice yelling for help, he tries to ignore it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
equal_shots) wrote2016-05-06 12:48 am
no subject
Status report. The café's empty. No threats assessed. No inju-- [A shriek for help, distinctly feminine. It sounds like Liz. His head whips to the voice instinctively before he remembers no one is there.] Injuries. No injuries.
[His voice is tight, small:] Are you close?
no subject
What's your physical status? Have you slept or eaten in the last twenty four hours?
no subject
Can't fall back to sleep. Very noisy. I've tried to rest. Ate a little bit. [He's trying hard, really. That shriek sounds like Patti and he presses his hands to his ears.] How soon is soon?
no subject
Why don't you count and see how long it takes? [Maybe not the best idea, but it will give the boy something else to focus on.]
no subject
[At least he knows it's not real, right?] I will count. I'm counting.
[And true to his word, Kid will be counting. To the best of his distracted, addled ability at least. On the back of his map, writing numbers.]
no subject
[It takes time, another half hour at least, but then there's a loud knock on the cafe door and Stein lets himself in. He looks terrible, exhausted and worn down, shivering under his layers of mismatched fabric, hollowed out and too thin.
But he is here, and he grins at Death the Kid, with a chipper wave.]
Sorry about the wait!
no subject
Much like Stein, Kid doesn't look well. He's thinned out beneath his jacket, and clearly not slept. And maybe he lied when he said he ate a little bit. How could he eat when people have been screaming for help?
Kid is unsurprisingly still holding his hands over his ears, trying to block out the shrieking, the begging. More often than not it's Liz and Patti. Always Liz and Patti. When he closes his eyes he can see them again as he had in the dream, dying over and over again. He shudders.]
Professor Stein?
no subject
That's right. [His tone's reassuring, rather than mocking. Somehow.]
How high did you count?
no subject
[Kid cringes, evidence that somewhere within his unusual behavior is the familiar neurosis of disliking the number seven.
Stein is right to question, at least somewhat, how much Kid might recognize him. He is, instinctively, looking for the signs of the other man's soul that are familiar--and struggling when he doesn't immediately see them. Much like forcing himself to ignore the voices that he knew were not real, forcing himself to rely on physical attributes alone was harder than Kid anticipated. He would find it easier with faces he met exclusively here in Norfinbury, but Stein does not fit that bill.
He does not remove his hands. He barely glances up, his gaze still firmly on the table in front of him.] I have food and water, Professor. If you need any. We should share, correct?
[Right? Let's talk about that. Let's talk about anything, but the fact that we're stuck in a frozen wasteland, where one bad dream can result in days of hearing voices nonstop.]
no subject
When did you last eat?
no subject
[Kid wasn't sure he could eat, even if he tried. Stein's arrival was too much of a reminder of things that were different. That were wrong. It was easy to ignore that he couldn't see souls when he hadn't seen anyone in person. Kid is fairly certain Stein was better-kept than this, that he didn't permit himself to remain unshaven and raggedy--but he can't wrap his head around it for certain and like everything else about this frozen hellscape it is stressing him out.]
You look different.
no subject
It's not his preferred method of physically scolding his students, but it's one that Kid is sure to comprehend, even in his addled state.]
Stein threatening to reaper-chop Kid will never not be funny to me now. I will forever giggle
...yesterday morning. I am not hungry. [He's places emphasis on this, as if it will excuse his behavior. Still, with his gaze averted and thin shoulders sagging it's clear that the young reaper is expecting to be chastised.]
isn't it the best mental image i love it
[Regardless of Kid's understanding of basic human bodily functions (or that obvious body language), Stein's just going to continue.]
In these situations, humans require between three and five thousand calories per day, and you haven't been eating enough.
Honestly I feel bad for Stein at the moment
He'd be more irritated about having to explain if the yelling had not picked up again. His eyes dart away from the table to the other side of the room and he stiffens, gears very obviously turning. He listens, watches for thirty seconds. He has to know for sure there is nothing. Covering his ears, Kid presses on.]
I am well aware of what the sensation of hunger is like, but at home food intake is far less of a requirement than here. I have gone days without before with no issue.
I am not hungry. [Squeezing his eyes shut, Kid shakes his head. If Stein looks hard he might find the hint of a flush on his student's face. It is a bit embarassing.] When...when I am nervous, I am not hungry. Does that explain?
no subject
no subject
I keep trying, but... [But it's thus far been a tedious exercise. It isn't just not being hungry but an uneasy queasiness that has made the act difficult.
But he will try to follow instructions, and digs into his bag, producing a small roll. He has absolutely no desire to eat it, picking off a small piece. If his stomach turns as he hears another disembodied voice yelling for help, he tries to ignore it.]
no subject