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

[schrodingerscockroach]

*Click*

Eve, what's up? [His voice is flatter than normal. This is Business Mode Wash.] I'm kind of busy at the moment.

[wroughtandtempered]

[ STILL KIND OF MUFFLED ]

Shit, sorry— Wylan's having health issues and being shifty as fuck about it, I didn't know who else to call—

[ fuck, is she going to have to drag him home herself? she probably can, but what a fucking mess— ]

[daturameloxia]

[Yeah will probably continue to be muffled because Wylan is continuing to squirm wildly in Eve's mouth. Is he trying to shed his sweater? Yes, maybe, probably.]

[schrodingerscockroach]

[There is a pause.]

[There is a grunt on the other end of the line that definitely isn't Wash.]

Quiet. You might be free to go after all. Eve, is that Wylan with you?

[wroughtandtempered]

Ye— fuck.

[ please hold as she lets go of Wylan's collar, only to grab him roughly and wrap him up the way a boa constrictor might— though a boa constrictor does not have grabby paw-talons capable of adding to its grip. try escaping now, you wiggly fuck.

more clearly: ]

Yes. I can send you the address?

[daturameloxia]

[Just as Wylan thinks he might have a chance to run when his feet hit the floor, Eve wraps around him and grips him tight. His sensitive chest sends echoes of the earlier pain rocketing through him. He can't help the quiet hiss of pain.

And still he tries, and very much fails, to wiggle in this new, much tighter grasp.]

[schrodingerscockroach]

Yes, send me the address.

[Further from his phone, voice low and menacing.] You try extorting worried people for money again, I will be back, and I'll be a lot less nice. [Then the sound of someone being allowed to fall to the floor, coughing as Wash moves away.]

He's being wiggly again, isn't he?

[wroughtandtempered]

Okay, hold on—

[ Wash can hear her snap a quick set of orders to her phone; a moment later a map screenshot with her current location marked pops up via text, as well as a screenshot of the photo Wylan had sent her of his apartment number. ]

Yeah. ...He really didn't want you to know about this. I've got him wrapped up, but I don't want to hold on too long; his chest hurts.

[daturameloxia]

[Yeah, the longer he's constricted the more his chest pain grows.]

I'm fine.

[He tries to say convincingly, like he isn't in desperate need of a medical assessment.]

[schrodingerscockroach]

I'm about five minutes out.

...the plate should do. Make that a minute out, I'll teleport.

[wroughtandtempered]

Okay. Thanks, Wash.

[ and then fiercely, to Wylan, as she tries to rearrange herself so she can keep his arms pinned to his sides without putting pressure on the front of his chest: ]

I can literally smell when you're in pain. And when you're lying. So knock it the fuck off, we're taking care of you whether you like it or not.

[daturameloxia]

I don't-- need-- [Oh it's getting worse. He can feel his pulse picking up as well.]

I'm. Stronger. I don't need-- I don't--

[Wylan tugs at his sweater, trying to find relief before the inevitable. Eve can likely smell it before it happens. Wylan goes from tensioned, wiggly worm to loosey goosey, passed out noodle in a matter of seconds.]

[schrodingerscockroach]

[Wash is focusing on switching his pendant, heading that way anyway. What is Wylan doing! Why was he hiding he was at the apartments?!]

[wroughtandtempered]

—fuck.

[ Eve stares at him for a moment, torn— but as unfortunate as it is, this is a good opportunity. she lets go and shifts back to her bipedal form, hurriedly stripping her cardigan off as she goes. in case Wash is still listening: ]

He just passed out. Second time; as far as I can tell it's just from stress, not heart fuckery or anything. I'm tying him up so I don't have to keep putting pressure on him.

[ sorry if that doesn't help the focusing, Wash. anyway, she's using her cardigan to tie Wylan's hands behind his back and then sitting on his legs; she can keep a grip on the knot from there. ]

[daturameloxia]

[This time, Wylan takes longer to wake up. His heart takes longer to slow down, to give his slowed breathing a chance to catch up and circulate enough oxygen for him to stir back to life. So, for now he's still out as Eve wraps him up and sits on his legs.]

[schrodingerscockroach]

[Wash would have a lot more dead friends if that was enough to break his focus. Multitasking for focusing is where he's best at.]

[He's actually faster to switch than most, so it doesn't even really take him a minute.]

Heart fuckery? What's going on with his heart?

[wroughtandtempered]

He has chest pain and tachycardia right before he passes out. He also said he knows why, but wouldn't tell me.

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan is slowly stirring, bit by bit coming back to awareness. He blinks, confused as to how he got wrapped up in a cardigan, but one glance behind him tells him the answer. Eve is trying to keep him here and Wash is on his way. Wylan only catches the tail end of Eve's sentence but he's shaking his head all the same.]

Let me up.

[schrodingerscockroach]

Damn it, Wylan.

I'll be there soon. Door unlocked?

[wroughtandtempered]

Think so.

And no. Fuck you, you think I trust you after all this shit?

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan is back to squirming, but at a much more subdued pace as his chest pain takes its time in easing.]

I told you before, all I need is to breathe through it.

[wroughtandtempered]

Repeated loss of consciousness can cause brain damage, fuckhead! Fucking think you can breathe through that?

[schrodingerscockroach]

[Speaking of brain damage from repeated physical trauma-]

[Someone is in front of the door and testing the lock after teleporting in.]

[daturameloxia]

[Wylan is just about to argue back when he hears Wash come in. His head snaps to the side before one last struggle.

The apartment is still in its wretched state with the mattress in the galley kitchen, the marks on the floor where the fridge was manhandled out into the living room, and of course the smell of chemicals all around. ]

[wroughtandtempered]

[ just. exhales roughly and puts one hand on Wylan's shoulder to pin him there for good measure. raising her voice for Wash: ]

Watch out, it's a fucking mess in here.