Death the Kid (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
equal_shots) wrote2016-05-06 12:48 am
equal_shots) wrote2016-05-06 12:48 am
I'm at the grocery store in the shopping district. Where are you?
[It takes Kid a a bit to reply, and when he does he sounds incredibly distracted. As though there's a conversation in the background that he's half-listening to, and Stein gets only some of his attention.]
Shopping district? You're downtown.
[Close.] ...café. There's a café. I stopped... [And again, he stops talking to cringe at the voices calling for help. His constant companions for the last two days.] ...stopped here.
Shopping district? You're downtown.
[Close.] ...café. There's a café. I stopped... [And again, he stops talking to cringe at the voices calling for help. His constant companions for the last two days.] ...stopped here.
Edited 2016-06-01 00:49 (UTC)
[It says a lot about both teacher and student that Stein isn't overly concerned by Kid's obvious distress. It's not a tone he's unfamiliar with, and in the past it's been brought on by such godly concerns as a piece of paper creased in only one corner, or the way Black☆Star styled his hair. He's assuming this is the same, that Kid's been reduced to distraction by problems as potentially varied as existing in a mortal body or a particularly asymmetrical snowdrift.
The only thing to do here is keep his tone casual, and avoid asking any questions about what's set the young reaper off this time.]
I was just there. I'll turn around and come back, don't lock me out!
The only thing to do here is keep his tone casual, and avoid asking any questions about what's set the young reaper off this time.]
I was just there. I'll turn around and come back, don't lock me out!
[Stein gets no direct response from his student. Instead, audible over the connection, is Kid's nonsensical ramblings to himself.]
I can't help you-- [His voice is unusually small and quiet, a hint to Stein for later that this is nothing like his student's usual obsession-driven distraction. Something crashes.
Whenever you're ready, Stein!]
I can't help you-- [His voice is unusually small and quiet, a hint to Stein for later that this is nothing like his student's usual obsession-driven distraction. Something crashes.
Whenever you're ready, Stein!]
[That is abnormal, and as Stein rushes towards the building he left just hours before, he calls Kid back.]
Death the Kid, I need a status report.
Death the Kid, I need a status report.
I can't reach-- [Yeah. That status report you want? You aren't getting one that's going to be of much use. But Kid is nothing if not obedient, and a few moments later he clears his throat. There's the sound of furniture being righted, a dull thunk as chair legs hit the floor.]
...status report? Yes--right. Status report. [He's is trying so very hard. It's not working but he is trying.] There's nobody else here. Empty.
[But that doesn't change his distracted tone, the delays in his replies. Empty the café may be but as far as Kid's concerned it's plenty full.]
...status report? Yes--right. Status report. [He's is trying so very hard. It's not working but he is trying.] There's nobody else here. Empty.
[But that doesn't change his distracted tone, the delays in his replies. Empty the café may be but as far as Kid's concerned it's plenty full.]
That's not a status report, Kid. [Stein's not snapping at the boy yet, but his tone is firm and commanding. Kid knows better than that, and without someone physically there to get the boy's attention it's going to be difficult to keep his from completely falling apart.]
[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.]
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?
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?
I'll be there soon. [Stein's trying to be calm and reassuring, but he's worried. How often do people actually want to see him? Not very.]
What's your physical status? Have you slept or eaten in the last twenty four hours?
What's your physical status? Have you slept or eaten in the last twenty four hours?
[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?
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?
I don't hear anything. [That doesn't mean Kid can't hear anything, just that it probably isn't real.]
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.]
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.]
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.]
[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.]
Sorry about the wait!
[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!
[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.]
Professor Stein?
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?
[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.]
How high did you count?
That's right. [His tone's reassuring, rather than mocking. Somehow.]
How high did you count?
One thousand two hundred and fifty-seven.
[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 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.]
I have enough. [Thankfully, that's not a lie.]
When did you last eat?
When did you last eat?
I am not hungry.
[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.
[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.
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.]
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
equal_shots
2016-06-20 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)
[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.]
...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.]
Would you know if you were hungry? I haven't studied your biology enough to know if you generally experience hunger.
[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.
[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.
[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?
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.]
[Go Team Dysfunction.]
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.]
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.]
What other food do you have? Have you been drinking enough water?
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