un: Eve 🔪; video

[wroughtandtempered]

[ the video opens to a large, serpentine beast with a wolf's pointed ears pulling back from the camera, having apparently started the recording via booping the phone's screen with her snoot. she flicks out a forked black tongue once, then lays her head down on her paws and says slowly: ]

What do you do when you feel like garbage, and you can't do anything to fix why? When you've just got to wait it out.

...I don't know how long I'm going to be waiting, so. The more ideas the better.

[ a beat, and then she adds: ]

Thanks.

[ —before reaching out to tap the phone again, this time with a paw. animal lovers, enjoy that brief full-screen shot of pink snakewolf toebeans before the feed cuts. ]

Comments

Re: AND NOW LOCKED/PRIVATED

[daturameloxia]

[And where there would be an apology, some kind of self-deprecating statement, there is nothing, only Wylan continuing on.]

Apparently I've an apartment in Blossomcrown since I arrived here, but never knew of it. Makes for an incredible experimenting space. The loft has room for a lab and the main floor for experimenting.

[And allows him to skirt the robo-arms time limit. What a great idea for everyone.]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ ...so Wylan has a secret lab. for explosions. that... okay, yeah, this has crossed over from "maybe a bad idea" to "the alarm bells are going off." the draw of explosions has receded in the face of concern, and she stares at her phone for a few moments, licking her nose uncertainly.

...okay. she's not going to betray his confidence. not yet. she'll go to keep an eye on him, and to see whether or not he's being stupid with his own safety. she can make her mind up what to do after that. ]

hopefully your neighbors don't mind
😅
just let me know when you want to go

[daturameloxia]

[Nevermind those alarm bells! All is clearly good. Boy has such confidence!]

No complaints thus far.

Whenever you’d like. I’d be happy to show you.

[wroughtandtempered]

give me like thirty minutes to get protection etcetera

[ now that she thinks about it, she should probably get earplugs, too... good thing she knows a place. ]


are you home or should I meet you there
?

[daturameloxia]

[It takes Wylan a couple minutes but ‘address.png’. Why is it a png? Because Wylan just took a picture of the number of his apartment. His sooty fingers are also in the picture because what is picture taking.]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ ...sooty— okay, she's bringing a pack of disposable gloves and maybe leaving them there. just in case he doesn't know about them. ]

ok on my way

[ and sure enough, around thirty minutes later there's a knock at the door. ]

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan open the door with a bright smile.]

Come in, come in.

[Immediately, the smell of carbon scoring, explosives, and burning fills the air. On the floor into what would be a kitchen is a thin mattress with thinner blankets. Beyond that, there are scratches on the plank flooring where someone worked very hard to move the fridge out from the kitchen and into the living room, where most of the smell comes from. To say the living room is a mess would be an understatement. The aforementioned fridge is nearly completely blackened, its doors nearly torn off in what can only be described as a blast container. To the side is a ser of stairs that lead up to a loft where Wylan has made an impromptu lab and where the part of the mattress was brought down. The bookshelves are being used as relatively safe storage for components.

All in all, though, a very different look from the Birdtile house and a very different look on Wylan, whose features may be looking a little extra sharp.]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ ... what the fuck.

thankfully Eve'd made the decision to shift entirely to her bipedal form— both because it means she isn't sent reeling by the smells, but also because it means she doesn't have her usual wolf ears and tail to give away how taken aback she is. poker face is officially now the name of the game, and the only sign of her suddenly racing thoughts is a slow, wide-eyed blink at the catastrophe that is the living room. ]

...Sorry. Had to take a moment of silence for your security deposit.

[ in she shuffles, taking in the disastrous state of the... well, everything. ]

[daturameloxia]

I think I lost that some time ago. [Wylan doesn’t seem worried though as he pulls at the center of his sweater for a moment, the pain seems to be increasing but he wipes the sweat off his forehead with a dirty hand all the same.]

I have some ready to try here.

[He has some bottles, one on each shelf of the fridge and one in the freezer and a handful of coins.]

Here.

[Ignore the shake of his hand as he offers the coins, too, okay?]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ she takes the coins, but— nope. no. ]

...Wylan. How long's it been since you've eaten? Or taken a break.

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan runs his empty hand down his dirty sweater for a moment as the pain increases. It takes a moment to catch his breath before he turns back to the explosive bottles in the fridge.]

They should explode on impact. The rush of oxygen causes the materials to explode.

[It’s like Eve said nothing at all and Wylan never heard it. He aims one coin at the bottle in the freezer.]

Try it.

[wroughtandtempered]

[ —he fucking ignored her.

it would have been fine—well. "fine"—if he'd lied, or demurred, or... anything but that, really. but the complete lack of acknowledgement feels like a slap to the face; it's a jab to an old hurt, and she finds herself jerking back and bristling. ]

No.

—did you actually want me here to help, or just to fucking show off?

[daturameloxia]

I wanted to help you. [Wylan furrows his brows at Eve, unsure of what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t need to answer that question, does he? Not if he’s helping Eve, right? After all, this is a distraction for her and she moves on with her day. This is Wylan’s entire life right now.]

I thought you needed a distraction.

[The pain in his chest is multiplying and maybe he just needs a distraction of his own.]

[wroughtandtempered]

What, so I should just fucking ignore that you look like a wreck? The way you just ignored me?

—I don't need a distraction so bad I want you to be hurting over it.

[ is that what he thinks of her? that she would want that? ...that would make sense. (would it?) she did take advantage of him before. (...did she?)

the thought still hurts. ]

[daturameloxia]

I’m not hurting.

[As if it weren’t the most obvious lie.]

I’m stronger now. I’m not hurting.

[Wylan’s breath is quickly becoming labored as his chest pain is running out of control. Wylan scratches at his sweater and shakes his head.]

I’m strong now.

[He can breathe through this. He can do this. He’s strong, he’s… getting lightheaded and Eve’s face is so, so blurry.]

I’m fine. I’m strong.

[And he’s down (but not for long)]

[wroughtandtempered]

Being strong doesn't mean—

[ oh.

oh fuck.

Eve lunges for him, trying to catch him or at least keep him from cracking his head on something. whether or not she's successful, she braces and shifts into her other form, and— oh fuck, that is exactly as much of an offense to her sense of smell as she thought it would be. but she does her best to ignore it, sticking her nose up against Wylan's wrist to get a read on both his pulse and his general health. is this hypoglycemia, lack of sleep? ...gods forbid, something worse? ]

[daturameloxia]

[It’s primarily the soul alchemy as his pulse pounds out of control, double his resting pulse. His breathing continues to come and go until his pulse starts to slow again and Wylan blinks awake.

Oh, it happened. Again.

He’s just not used to company other than Relius when he wakes up.]

Oh. [He still seems confused as the chest pain continues to ease. It takes him a moment before his strength starts to return and he tries sitting up.]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ as soon as Wylan moves, Eve puts an enormous paw on his chest— not pressing down, just trying to keep him from getting up. ]

Stay the fuck down. I need you to focus on breathing until I'm sure your pulse isn't going to fucking take off again.

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan doesn’t have the wherewithall to not try to hide an open wince at even the slightest touch to his chest or how he pulls at his sweater. He checks himself a moment later by schooling his expression and dropping his arms down by his side. He’s strong now. He can fight through this.]

Okay. [A bit breathless, but he can do this. He’s fine, this is fine. He can prove his father wrong if he can just make it through this pain.]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ unfortunately (fortunately?) for Wylan, even if he hadn't winced Eve could literally smell the spike of endorphins associated with pain. she pulls back, ears pressing back in further alarm. ]

Wylan. You are absolutely hurting and it isn't fucking strong to try to push through it. I'm asking as a worried friend and a fucking doctor— how long has this been going on?

[daturameloxia]

I just need to-- [Breathing. Breathing through the pain. He just has to breathe. And as he breathes, his complexion warms again, the tingling in his fingers eases, and the pain in his chest does finally ebb away.

And Wylan is right as rain once more. Perhaps tired and hungry, but whole and hale otherwise.]

See? [Okay, maybe still a bit out of breath.] Only needed to breathe.

[But he does admit,] It is relatively new. But it comes and goes and I'm back on my feet after.

[wroughtandtempered]

You probably shouldn't be. If your heart's acting up, or something...

[ she hadn't caught any off-rhythms, but... what the fuck else could be going on? nothing she can tell without a proper examination, that's for fucking sure. ]

New is— okay. Okay. [ then, bitterly: ] ...If I asked you to come to the clinic with me, would you go?

[ Eve's pretty sure she knows the answer. ]

[daturameloxia]

It will get better with time, I've been assured-- [Yikes. Wylan closes his mouth perhaps a moment too late. He clearly knows what's going on, what's causing this, and has done nothing to improve the situation, fainting and all.]

No, I don't wish to go to the clinic. I have work to do.

[That and he already knows what's caused this and what he thinks is the right avenue to move forward.]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ she stares at him for a long moment after the admission, ruff slowly starting to bristle—

then she abruptly deflates. ]

Fine.

[ —is all Eve says, before reaching into the satchel slung around her first set of shoulders and pulling her phone out, which she drops to the floor. as she makes direct eye contact with Wylan, she says: ]

Phone? Enter speaker mode and call Wash.

[ ...that sure is the sound of a phone dialing. ]

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan watches Eve carefully, unsure of what's about to happen. However as soon as she mentions Wash, he starts to wriggle and fight underneath her paw. Sure, it starts to stir up the pain again-- fighting his friends, that doesn't seem like it will make him strong--, but Wylan ignores it for the immediate need of keeping Wash away.]

Don't call him!

[Wait. That doesn't seem right. Wash is his dad. Wash cares for him no matter what. Why would Wylan want him gone?

No matter, Wylan struggles best as he can to escape.]