2019.03.19:Reality is Stupid
| 2019.03.19: Reality is Stupid | |
|---|---|
| Marshall has a conversation with Anyu and Roger at the Witches Brew | |
| IC Date | March 19, 2019 |
| IC Time | Evening |
| Players | Anyu,Roger,Marshall, Beatrice, Issac |
| Location | The Witches Brew |
| Spheres | All |
Witches Brew and Occult Shoppe - Shop
Looking over at Roger, Anyu will let her blue eyes linger on him, and if she could read his mind, she'd probably be all up in it, but she can't, so she won't, and this is just getting us nowhere. She'll sigh and then nod slowly, "I'll talk to him. Thanks Roger, for giving me a heads up." She does smile at him softly, and then her blue eyes fall on Issac again and she'll grin to him, "Yes, I'm crushing some herbs. I have a huge order and they want a lot, so I have to make it in bulk, that's why I got the big mortar out.." She's even standing on the step stool behind the counter to give her angle. "Nothing for you to worry about, Issac, it's a friend is all.."
Roger nods to Issac. "Yup. Roger, 'at's me." He doesn't bother getting up and having a formal introduction, content as he is where he's seated. Anyu's given a nod of confirmation and sympathetic smile. When Issac asks about Marshall by name, the bruiser looks between Anyu and the other man with mild surprise and confusion, but keeps quiet.
Some of his concern drifts away at Anyu's words and he pauses there beside the table, "If you say so." Issac's words come out a little heavier than normal. "That is good news - have to keep that greenhouse going." He looks down to the herbs in question with his hands resting lightly on the table edge. The reply from Roger is answered with a dip of his head towards the seated man.
As if the young, conservative lad could somehow sense he was being discussed, Marshall steps through the door to the shop and pauses just inside as though he were looking carefully for any sign of a certain religious figure. His bloodshot eyes, worn from fatigue and strain, catch sight of Roger in his chair but for some reason he doesn't seem as freaked out as he was last time. It's rather like walking by the gorilla cage at the zoo, the first time it slammed against the window you were scared but now you just watch. Anyu, working on her herbs, is apparently who he came to see and the young lad walks towards her in the most /casual/ manner he can. "Hey there Chic..." he greets with a less-than-formal tone to his voice. The boy seems ragged, strung out and tired. To the others he offers a simple nod of greeting - not wanting to be rude or uncivilized.
"Yes, the greenhouse is actually very popular, which is super nice. We have a wide variety of herbs that are useful for many people." Anyu says to Issac with a grin. Her blue eyes lower and she'll finish packaging up what she was grinding and closes the lid on it before she looks over at Roger and then smiles at him, "You want anything Roger? I feel like I'm not serving well enough right now." She'll move and wipe off her hands on a towel.
However, as Marshall enters and heads in her direction, her bright blue eyes will fall on him and she'll look immediately concerned, "Hey sweetie, you okay?" She obviously looks concerned and steps around the counter to approach him, her herbal task forgotten.
"That is great news - people are always looking for organic anything these days," he replies in a supportive manner. The grin is mirrored by him with a bit of tooth. "I came and got some mint for my friend," he shares and then Issac's head pivots about to peer towards the door as it opens and spies Marshall. At the approach of the man, he moves off to the side to allow the two to speak, "Hi Marshall." he replies quietly and gives a man a close once over.
Roger shakes his head, clucking his tongue faintly as Marshall comes in. "Mmmm... nope. I think I'm good for now," the bruiser decides, keeping his eyes planted on Marshall with a predator's steady watchfulness. It isn't a gorilla in the cage so much as a lion: maybe he can't pounce right now, but he can still track with his eyes, watch, and wait. If visual stalking is a thing, the bruiser's at it right now.
"I need something to help me sleep..." Marshall asks Anyu. "The drugs are making me freak the hell out so I need something more natural and with less side-effects." Turning slowly towards Roger he tries not to make eye contact with the lion of a man but he's clearly speaking to him. "Seems that I've picked up a migraine...and I can't seem to shake it." The lad lies through his teeth but it's a lie that makes everyone able to wake up in one piece the next morning.
"Hey," he offers in greeting to Issac and barely manages not to lock eyes with the man. He's looking rough - moments of clarity and razor-sharp focus mixed with waves of confusion and blurry reality. The only person he's avoiding such a gaze with is Roger.
Studying Marshall intently, Anyu appears to be concerned, "What drugs are you taking?", she'll ask quietly. "I can give you something that will help you, it's a special blend... it will help you sleep and sleep well." She'll move behind the counter and crouch, rummaging for something before coming up with a little glass vial with powder in it. Offering it to Marshall, she'll smile at him, "This will help you sleep nicely. Although I'm worried about why you can't sleep. Can I help you somehow?", she says in a soft voice as she moves to stand very closer to Marshall, rather protectively actually, even if she's barely over 5' tall
A small furrow builds over his brow as Marshall shares his issues and his lips purse - concern flickers to life in his gaze. The same sentiment carries in a low 'hmmm' that dwells in the depth of his core for a brief moment. Near silently, he moves back a step as not to intrude, though he does spy the vial that she offers up. It is clear on his expression that he is worried and appears to want to say something, but he keeps his mouth closed and merely looks away towards the shelves of book.
Beatrice steps through the front entrance, causing the bell above the door to jingle.
Roger sighs and shakes his head. "I'm gonna check out the space for the book club," the bruiser decides. "See if anything else is needed down there." The giant gets up and moves for the door to the back, ducking through it to head downstairs and try avoiding bumping his head on anything. It's a challenge, really. Quick set: Anyu is standing close to Marshall near the apothecary section, handing him a vial of white powder. Issac appears to be nearby, watching with concern. Roger is at the cafe area, looking rather grumpy and predatorial, until he decides to go downstairs.
Marshall has -never- had such comic timing before but the moment when Anyu asks what drugs he's been taking, the lad pulls out a plastic shopping bag out from his hoody pocket and sets it on the table. The bag, stuffed to the size of a cabbage, is filled with every over-the-counter sleep aid, anti-anxiety, calming drug, concoction and balm one could find at an all-night drug store. Marks on the boy's wrist, no not -those- kinds of marks, are visible as he places the bag on the counter. He's taken a black marker and made hashes for some reason as though he were counting something and didn't want to forget. The marks disappear up his sleeve.
"I swear if he starts up again I'm going to have to bleed all over him..." He mutters to Anyu about Roger.
Suddenly there came a swagging, as of someone gangsta rapping. Rapping at my chamber door. Enter the Beatrice. Leather messenger bag over one shoulder, headphones leading from it up to her ears. "Hey, never mind what haters say / Ignore them until they fade away / Amazing they ungrateful / After all the game I gave away." Her head bobs with the music she raps along with, footsteps a bit light, and eyes mostly hidden behind a pair of overly large sunglasses. Quoth the Raven, Swag Galore.
Anyu's eyes widen slightly at the size of the large bag full of drugs. "Ohh... sweetie.", she'll say softly and then step forward to look into the bag. She'll take a few out and begin to read what they are before she'll put them back and look at another one and then puts that one back. "Why do you need all this?", she'll ask Marshall. "I can give you some calming things. Things to help you sleep.", she murmers. At the mention of Roger, she'll glance over her shoulder at him as he heads to the back and then smiles gently, "Okay, thanks Roger..", she'll offer to him. Glancing at Marshall again, she'll look at his wrist and then back to him again. "I might be able to help in another way, you want to come by tonight after I close?", she says quietly to him. Then someone's entering and Anyu looks up at the singing rap, pausing at the dichotomy of rap coming from the conservatively dressed girl. "Welcome to the Witches Brew!"
Issac shifts his attention to watch Roger heading downstairs and his hands come to clasp behind his back. Attention flicks to the bag full of drugs and then apparently he catches the marks on his arm. The comment from Marshall to Anyu causes him to blink. Quietly, he steps away and moves over to the books to give them some privacy - but near enough he is around if they need anything. At the sounds of the entrance of a new face, he glances towards Beatrice and plucks up a book at random from the shelf.
Roger moves to Witches Brew and Occult Shoppe - Basement
Issac steps into the Book Stacks.
"Oh sweety. I thought I told you back in New York that was only a one time thing and I was -seriously- drunk that night." Wait...did Marshall just crack a joke? And a none-too-conservative one at that? His grasp on what is happening and what's being discussed is starting to loosen a bit as he talks - perhaps some of his meds are kicking in or wearing off.
A hand goes up, first to point a single finger upwards at Anyu, then to follow through to pluck the earbuds from her ears. A raise of her brows, and a small cock of her head to the side. "What?"
Issac doesn't do a very good job of it not keeping tabs on things between the pair, he barely glances down at the book and more so in their direction. Worry and curiosity shows in his gaze. There is a subtle lift of one brow just after Marshall's comment.
Anyu just pauses at Marshall's joke and then she'll blink and then LAUGH, she laughs hard too. "Oh my goddess, Marshall, you're making jokes! If you're making jokes, everything will be alright." She'll grin at him and then lean in to touch his shoulder, "Seriously, you need to come back, I want to talk to you personally, we need to wrok this out together, ok? You are not alone. Got it? You are never alone." Her tone is a soft whisper to Marshall and she squeezes his arm gently before saying, "I fear you feel you are alone, and you are not..." Then, she'll sigh and take a step back, though she'll look at Beatrice curiously again and smiles, "Just let me know if you need anything alright?"
Marshall nods, groggily to Anyu and then looks to the basement door as though it were a subtle challenge to him. "Hang on...I gotta go see a man about a migraine..."
Witches Brew and Occult Shoppe - Basement
Roger is downstairs by the minifridge, nibbling on a leftover piece of cthulhu pie that somebody forgot down here. It was probably going to be Mia's on break. Too late now! He chews thoughtfully, then swallows when he hears footsteps on the stairs and spies Marshall. "Wondered if you'd have the balls to come on down," he states dryly.
The young man walks down the stairs into the basement, only looking somewhat wobbly on the last two. He's either been without sleep, strung out on drugs or some odd combination of the two and his coordination is a bit...sloppy. Once in the room he wanders over to find something to lean against - needing some aid to keep him from falling off the spinning rock it would seem.
"I got the balls big man..." he slurs and tries to focus his eyes on the man though not daring to make direct contact between their souls. "I got -nothing- but balls..." he picks at the side hem of his sweats to accentuate some point and adds, "...no clean laundry." Roger blinks as he watches the high, staggering Marshall and rolls his eyes. "Jesus suffering fuck, you have got to be shitting me," he snorts. "What'd she put you on, fuckin' herbal oxy or some shit?"
Marshall shakes his head and leans against the table and lets out a soft sigh of fatigue. "Sleep aids. Trying to pass the fu...pass out. I need some real sleep without seein..." he looks back to Roger and points in his general direction, "...stuff." Absently he starts to pull and tug a this hoody as though he were getting too warm. Marks on the boy's wrist, no not -those- kinds of marks, become visible even from across the room. He's taken a black marker and made hashes for some reason as though he were counting something and didn't want to forget. The marks disappear up his sleeve. Roger snorts and shakes his head. "Boy, you need to get your head on fuckin' straight before you get Anyu hurt," the bruiser states flatly, shaking his head. "You remember last time when I damn near tore in to you? She got in my fuckin' way, and it's only cause we're cool like that you got to walk away and SHE didn't get hit on the way to takin' you out." Roger stares at Marshall disapprovingly. "What's gonna happen the next time you see some shit you shouldn't and freak out? She's gonna swoop in to save your ass and we all hope it doesn't get hers in a sling, huh?"
"I've -tried- not to see what I'm seeing." Marshall explains, "But it'd be like saying hide from the sun," he pauses and rethinks that metaphor and tries to retract it from the conversation. "No wait...people already do that. But you get the idea. It's difficult. But I got folks helpin me now." He adds as a sort of half-way answer. "What I saw didn't make sense. At ALL..." and once more he looks towards, but not into, the giant of a man before he continues. "...until I understood."
"Oh?" Roger leans over, tilting his head as he appears to be very much attempting to see 'inside' of Marshall, if that were even a thing. "And what do you understand, boy? Hmm? What have you learned from going apeshit and moving from panic attack to insomnia or whatever the fuck that neurotic hunk of gray meat's cookin' up for ya?"
The boy takes his time, a breath or two at most to gather his thoughts and courage when he slowly turns his head and focuses his vision INTO Roger's eyes. "I've learned," he begins with a croakingly quiet voice, "...I've learned...that..." he repeats with a breath to gain some strength behind his words.
"Reality...is...a...lie..."
And as he speaks something stirs deep within him. A fragment of a light once thought long snuffed out in the world.
Roger hears the words spoken; the intensity behind them is clear. The big man stares in to Marshall's eyes, takes in his demeanor and then lets out a measured breath. "Kid..." Roger purses his lips as he thinks how to phrase this; how does one address such a life affirming and altering piece of information?
"That's the stupidest thing I've heard from you yet."
Oh. Well. Apparently that's not how Roger sees things.
The boy can't help but smile at the giant of a man before him. It might be the last smile he'll ever make but for now all he can do is smile at the realization that was, in part, aided by the mountain's challenge. He dare not maintain the direct eye contact for fear that he might see too much but his legs are twitchy and a bit weakened so he's wobbly when he tries to turn to walk.
"...But it's the best lie we got." he finishes after his mind-shattering revelation. "Thank you for that..." It's an odd phrase; an unfamiliar gesture. Is he thanking him for the challenge or reality...or both?
Roger tilts his head askance and finally remarks, "Fuck's sake, dose you up with meds, walk past a bookshelf filled with self-help and California Buddhism and all of a sudden you're a fuckin' guru," he states, rolling his eyes. "Ok, kid. Reality's a lie. You're welcome for... that... sure. Go lie down somewhere and try not to piss yourself while you're sleeping tonight."
Marshall slowly starts to walk up the stairs and head out. His steps are still shaky and uncertain but he seems to be able to put one foot after the other.
