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I'll be the guard dog of all your fevered dreams; Ally please
Topic Started: Sep 15 2017, 04:21 AM (130 Views)
Pyrrhic
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Ros was exhausted, his brain overall fuzzy around the edges, and his eyes were burning even with his glasses on. He had been up much too late the night before texting back and forth with Ally. If you were to look at the texts you could see the progression of exhaustion on his end. He started out with fairly good spelling, and the things that he wrote made sense. Nothing of great importance had been discussed, just whatever random topics popped into their heads. Classwork, movies that they loved, how their finals had went, gymnastics. An entire hour was devoted just to just how bad Twilight was. By the end of the night Ros started getting sloppy, to the point that even autocorrect could not have made even less sense of what he was trying to say. When he woke up the next morning he had to question just what by "Mirros lok like sharks Picture shakers durn durn". The previous messages from both him and Ally had nothing to do with mirrors, sharks, pictures, or shakers. He could have stopped at any point and told her that he needed to go to bed. Ally probably would have said goodnight to him and not push him further to talk to her. Ros though knew the reason why neither one had called it quits.

Ever since they had returned from that disastrous field trip Ally hadn't been quite herself. It was hard to catch it, Ally still acted the way that she had prior to the trip most of the time. Sometimes though the smile didn't look quite as bright, or her eyes would slip away from who she was talking to to quickly check something to the side, something that wasn't there. Tiny moments when Ally looked as though there was something terrible and bulbous ready to burst out of her. Something had been broken and had not set right. The little flashes of insight that Ros got about Ally were easier to spot as the night progressed. Last night had not been the first all night text fast that the two had gone on. The conversations on the surface were light. Ros didn't push Ally to say anything that she was not comfortable with. A great many number of "dad" jokes were told. She needed to talk to someone, someone that could help her to not have this fear or sadness that had settled into her.

All night texting was not the solution though. Ros doubted he gave Ally the comfort she was seeking from him when he wrote messages like the "Picture shakers durn durn". He needed to give her something that would bring more comfort to her than just a glowing screen with text. There's only so much you could express through a text message. Words of comfort might come across more like a cliche or tired, not the way that he wanted them to. Sometimes hearing a voice was a better option. He wanted to give her something to give her comfort. An idea from the previous night stuck in his head clearly. It had made perfect sense at the time, and now that he was taking Ally into the city, he wasn't sure if he was thinking clearly enough to express it. Coffee was helping to wake him up, especially with two shots of espresso in the smallest cup size.

"I can't believe there are still some Radioshacks around" he told her taking a guzzle of the hot coffee. A little too much coffee, as his suddenly painfully burning tongue was pleased to tell him. It was still early enough in the day that he could claim he was still waking up. So not awake that burning one's tongue in an attempts to wake up was an action not to mock. The pit stop for coffee was unusual for Ros, but clearly needed. He had a long day of hard work that he was going to be cramming into a very small amount of time. Tomorrow he'd be able to get some more sleep, especially if this plan worked the way that he hoped it would.
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Alyvia Tanner
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A sheen of exhaustion had overtaken Alyvia's complexion, ever since they returned home from the island. The first few nights home, she was able to sleep - not rest, but sleep. It seemed she always woke up more tired than she fell asleep. The nightmares started after the third or fourth night; running from an unescapable sentience, falling into a black pit of nothingness, sitting in the Jet as it careened to the ground. She tried, in vain, to sleep, but woke with a panic each time. There came a point where sleeping just was no longer possible.

Ros was there, though. She texted him one night when her heart was racing so hard it felt it would rip away from her chest, and he stayed up with her as long as he could. He never pried into the reasons why, they'd just talk about any old thing. Classwork. Her training. Last night they spent far too long discussing just how bad the Twilight movies were. It was a great escape from life, even has he approached sleepy delirium. She tried to get some sleep herself after he nodded off, but it was a fruitless effort.

Nothing was the same. She used to be full of such life and bubbliness, but now… it constantly felt like she had a weight pulling her down. Ally faked it the best she could, but she couldn't always replicate that bright smile, couldn't keep herself frem checking every corner and closed door for something that would never actually be there. The joy she always found in training was gone. Her focus was totally shot. Maybe she wasn't as okay as she swore she was.

And maybe Pyrrhic knew that, as he surprised her that morning with an offer to head out into the city. She was genuinely happy to do so - not only did she really like Ros’ company, but the city always reminded her of life before mutancy, in a good way.

Soon enough, the two had found their caffeine of choice - Alyvia didn't quite appreciate coffee just yet, but the cafe also had orange soda, one of her favorite drinks on the planet. Certainly had enough sugar to keep her awake for days. He led her to a Radioshack - a sight that was a strange one in its own right. “I think my parents would've felt ill stepping in here. They were always too posh for shops like this.” Far too true - they were snobbish and stuck up in every way, traits that Ally had luckily not picked up in her 15 years. “Why we here, anyway?”
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Pyrrhic
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"This is the second time I've taken a friend shopping someplace their parents would disapprove of," Ros said, "I'm starting to think I'm a bad influence on you all." Given that the worst thing that Ros did typically would be the occasional swear word, he probably was as mild of a bad influence you could find. Looking back his friend's parents growing up had thought of him as polite. There were a few sadly that looked down upon him just because of who his parents must have been, something that Ros had grown more aware of the older he got. Now there was a whole other reason why friends parents might look less fondly upon the young man. He was a mutant, and not everyone was ok with that. It felt strange to think to think that there still was something as simple as a difference in income level that could bring about a negative impression. Ros doubted that Ally would look down on him for being excited to come here, or even think him a bad influence. It was just too easy to crack that joke, and seriously how could adults have too much pride or think a store was tacky?

Cracking the joke also gave him time to think of how to answer Ally's question. He knew that she needed something more than he could offer, and he wanted to make sure that Ally wasn't going through this alone. That was the hard part, trying to think of how to tell her that she should speak with someone like Ms. Jean Grey-Summers without sounding like he was giving up on her. It was his idea to get this bit of tech for Ally. Walkie talkies were not as primitive as say, two tin cans with rope strung between them, but they were no smart phone. There was something that a walkie talkie had advantage over a cell phone. Smart phones were from a technological age where even though you could connect to people all around the world, it was super easy to be isolated. On the other hand walkie talkies had a familiar feeling to them. They felt nostalgic Ros thought. Yous saw and read about kids using them to talk to each other when their parents thought they were sleeping, or while playing pretend that they were spies. The crackle as someone began to talk, the way you would talk in hushed tones into it, made it feel like the person on the other end was much closer.

"I'm thinking of picking up something for you," Ros said at last, "I mean its probably available at Walmarts or Targets... actually it probably would be cheaper there. But c'mon. Radioshacks are a rare thing these days, like Blockbusters. Why not check it out? I love those small, unusual shops," Ros explained, "Something for if one of our phones die at night." It was a concern that he had. He hadn't told Ally that he had to go to sleep, or that his phone needed to charge. Ros couldn't let Ally feel as though she was suddenly abandoned. If his phone's battery died she'd be alone, and he didn't want to risk choking himself in his sleep with the charger cable. He'd get a walkie talkie for Ally, and then, maybe he'd figure out how he could help her more.
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Ally couldn't help but laugh at Ros’ joke. Him? Bad influence? Surely her parents would agree that mutants were a poor choice of company, but that was at a time before her own genetic material began to warp and light ablaze like a wildfire. Life had changed almost entirely since then, few remnants of her once entirely human life still sticking around. It was… better, mostly. There were highs and lows, pros and cons, just like in most situations; though in the grand scheme of things, there was little she could do about the path life now led her on.

It wasn't an outlandish thought that a teenager who underwent such drastic lifestyle changes would feel a bit under the weather in totally normal circumstances. Add to that a nearly-deadly visit to a sentient island? It stung, constantly, like a scraped knee that refused to scab over. It wasn't crippling, per say, and sometimes it became a no more than a wisp in the back of her head; but then a loud bang or a nightmare would remind her of the raw wound.

Alyvia had never actually owned a walkie talkie as a child - her parents were harshly against any sort of toy that made more noise than absolutely necessary. Sure, she'd seen them on TV and used one if her friends had a pair, but it wasn't something she called upon with nostalgia or anything. Same with this store - or a Blockbuster, even. She had maybe been in them a handful of times with her nanny, but her parents were too hoighty-toighty to be caught dead anywhere so ‘low brow’.

“For… me?” Alyvia paused, the skin on the bridge of her nose wrinkling as she furrowed her brow. “Pyrrhic, you don't have to… I'm not bothering you with it, am I? I don't mean to keep you up so late.”
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"Hey, I can be a bad influence," Ros joked back, glad that he got a laugh out of Ally. He couldn't keep a straight face or look offended by her laughter. It had been honest, and for the brief period of time she did it, Ally had looked totally happy. There was a tight squeezing in his stomach. It felt good to get Ally to be back to her normal self, for a brief moment. Ros could listen to Ally when she had something to say, he could help her feel safe at night, but in the end he was only a distraction. She needed someone who knew the mind and could help her to feel safe without needing to stay up all night. The nice thing about the community of the school was that there was always someone who could do what you couldn't. So while it hurt Ros that he couldn't help his friend out in the way that she needed it most, there was someone.

"Ros," he corrected Ally, "This isn't a training session, or a need to use my powers. I know it's a small thing, but it helps with me to keep that distinction. Does that sound stupid?" Mr. Rasputin seemed to understand, at the very least he accepted it. Keeping the codename to training, or a situation like what happened on the island helped him to keep his humanity. Ros was the bookworm, the young man who had a tendency to ramble. Pyrrhic was more self confident, more capable, and less prone to ramble. Being called Pyrrhic was an indication of something more serious. When Ally had first come to the school and they became friends it wasn't when he was being Pyrrhic, that association was entirely based upon the island.

Her concern about keeping him up was waved off. His birthdays often followed Hobbit rules, everyone else getting presents from him. Buying a set of walkie talkies was nothing really. There were even greater things that people could do or offer Ally. Ben probably could send some of his "feel good vibes" her way as another placebo effect. The important thing was that Ally know he wasn't going to abandon her. For Ros his friends were valuable to him, and he would do practically anything for them. They were the brothers and sisters that he didn't have and always wanted. They might not know it, given that he never said it, but Ros hoped that his actions showed it.

"Ally, don't," Ros said gently, "I'm not going to silence my phone, and you aren't bothering me. I stay up late talking to you because it's good, and I like it." He opened the door for Ally and ushered her inside. As silly or shallow as some of their conversations had been, Ros had genuinely enjoyed them. He'd been hyper focused for the last two years upon trying to advance himself that he had missed out on some things that normal teens got to enjoy. Ally and her late night texts were so easy to respond to.
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The separation of birth name and code name was still new and rather unfamiliar territory. She barely held onto the names of her friends as it was, they always tried to slip away the second she thought she had a grip. Remembering two names for everyone, let alone the right time to use one or the other… it was a struggle, on the best days. Even if her memory wasn't shit (but it was), the idea of having a code name - needing one - it was still strange. Ahura helped her pick one for herself - Vertex. Like the center of a radar panel. The pair had been rather proud of their wit - she was a tracker, after all, like a mutant sonar. At least, she would be soon enough.

Indeed, the world of Xmen and mutants, while no longer new, was still a lot to understand without much time to just lay back and absorb it -- correction, she didn't give herself time to just lay back and absorb it. Because if she wasn't busy doing something, wasn't in class or studying or training on the mats, all she could do was think. Ally didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts - which was what made nights so difficult. Laying in bed, alone, there was little but her worry and memories to keep her awake.

And so, although she apologized and impressed that he certainly didn't have to, Alyvia was more than grateful that Ros was there. Their discussions weren't much to blab about, but, it was something. He gave her a much needed distraction and kept the thoughts at bay, even if only for a bit. And that was cool.

He assured her it was fine, and Ally didn't really feel the need to say more. Instead, she looked around the rather eclectic store, not really sure the reasoning behind this field trip.

“So, why this place? What ya looking for?”
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Pyrrhic
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The coffee was starting to work, at least enough that he was aware he needed to get another one when he got through his first. A migraine was pressing on his forehead just enough that it was making him feel lightheaded. Maybe he'd catch a nap later after his second cup. Cancelling on any of the things that he had scheduled was not an option, but sneaking several five minute naps could work. A second cup right before a nap would give him a double kick of energy and get him going for longer. How much espresso could someone drink before their heart exploded? How much could he drink period? Normally he didn't go for it, so Ros was not sure of the limits he had on it. Espresso tasted too much like someone had just stuck the burnt coffee grounds in his beverage for Ros to go for it on a regular basis. He might train to build up his endurance and strength, but drinking espresso in large quantities was just dumb.

"Well it's a Radio Shack, so it's safe to say something electronic," Ros said. It wasn't him trying to pick on her, or being a smartass. Ros had forgotten what they had come here for. A step into a room to do something and the transition from one room to the other wiping clear the train of thought that brought you there. Ros had to state the obvious of what they were doing to restart his thinking process. Electronics, radio, oh yeah, he was looking for walkie talkies. He started wandering around the store, getting distracted from his search a little too easily. He had been awake enough to get them in to the city, but shopping was more taxing on his mind. Always had been that way. Shopping was not torture per say, but it was something that if Ros was going to do it, he was going to do it his way. Find a store where he wasn't going to feel pressured by a sales associate, nor fight against crowds. If he needed any assistance he wanted the employees to be helpful, not the wave in the general direction that happened at Walmart.

"Things like a Radio Shack or a video rental store are rare these days. Like hidden pockets of sales and a funk of uh..." at this Ros trailed off, his metaphor collapsing like a souffle, "You just gotta go check them out because they might have really weird crap in them still. Like I bet we could find enough stuff in here to make a knock off Danger. Glue the wires and blinky blink lights on to a plastic person thingie and stick on some rolling stuffs..." More coffee was sipped as he tried to recover from his failure. Like a sluggish predator he pounced on a bubbled plastic sealed package with the most horrendous looking mustard yellow and florescent purple walkie talkies. The color combination might be forgiven if it was just a popular kid's character product. These weren't that. They were serious looking devices, but clearly made by someone who had no idea of what color was. Not just colorblind, but color oblivious.
Edited by Pyrrhic, Dec 29 2017, 01:51 AM.
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