[OPEN] after tonight, another day

[sunstead]

Who: Clamor & OPEN
When: All through July
What: Catch-all log! Open + closed prompts
Warnings: Possible mentions of self-harm; can be avoided if you let me know, but he's having A Rough Time between the 6th and the 12th specifically. Will update if needed!

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((If you have a different idea in mind, feel free to hit me up on plurk at BlueFlewFedUQueen, ping me through the game discord, or send me a PM! always happy to set up closed prompts hell yeah hell yeah))

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[sunstead]

[moving shadows, a flash of light—nothing solid but it's still something, and he reaches for it out of desperation, the shape of a hand eclipsing the tiny rectangle of the PDA screen. he grasps it, trembling fingers brushing against Sidney's.

his hand he asserts to himself, adjusting his grip to let the light shine through again. he still has hands. he's still here, somewhere, existing in a physical space. one arm, one—no, two eyes, and the second arm must be on the other side of whatever he's pressed against. something prevents him from pulling away completely, a shadow brushing thin strands away from his eyes...

it still doesn't feel real, but he's... he's somewhere. he's with someone. his breathing remains erratic, but he's regained some control now, all of his attention focused solely on the tiny square of light while his vision tries to adjust.]

[wolfetracks]

( sidney leaves the PDA on, lets the light shine beyond shielding it from noah- kid's sleeping soundly for once, he can't let this disturb him. after a long while, still holding clamor, he sets it down where clamor can see, and reaches into the desk nearby: his own, with a notebook and pen. writing in the dark is tough, but the light needs to stay where clamor can see it.

eventually, held up in the light, clamor might be able to see the notebook again! but the real question is if he'll register it right now. )

You are here, Clamor. Noah and Sara are close by. I'm here. We are in the classroom still.

[sunstead]

[he isn't letting that PDA out of his sight, so there's no need to worry about that. and he does, eventually, realize that it is a PDA—he's slowly piecing the situation back together, remembering where he is, or at least where he should be... it's too blurry to read the screen, but it does make him think—what time is it right now? it's dark, so it must be late. after midnight... there's no sound after midnight. and someone—Sidney?—is here. he must've fallen asleep. so it's a nightmare, and he's not dying, he just has to wake up

the light shifts, drawing Clamor's attention again. a notebook, fuzzy handwriting, the light that catches the edges of Sidney's features...

he has to squint to make out the words, but that's kind of grounding in its own way, really. his body is supposed to have shitty eyesight, so that just means he's... okay? probably? he touches his eye where his monocle would normally be, but... no, he wouldn't sleep with it on, but it should still be close by. on the desk?

it's such a simple, easy thing. he should be able to do it himself... but he looks to where he thinks the desk is, tries to get up, hesitates, looks back to Sidney instead. doesn't know what to say (not that anyone would hear), feels a wave of shame for being so useless right now, why does he still feel so afraid of nothing, what's wrong with him...?

rather than deal with any of these thoughts, he just leans back into Sidney and tries to pretend everything is fine. because everything is totally fine. he just has to keep telling himself that until it sounds convincing, then maybe he'll remember how to breathe normally again.]

[wolfetracks]

( oh, right, the monocle. of course. sidney had even needed to get his own glasses- why wouldn't it be the same? quickly, he grabs the piece and after a moment of debate... he hands it over to clamor. because in all honesty, he has no idea how the fuck a monocle is put on or stays on.

he wishes he could do more- that touch would mean anything to clamor right now, that it wasn't so late that he couldn't speak. all he can do is stay close, stay visible. but... maybe? maybe something else could work. but not until clamor looks more at ease- or as much as he can in this situation.

instinctively, his hand rests on clamor's back, but he knows it's useless for anyone but himself specifically. and he's not the one who needs this sort of thing right now. )

[sunstead]

[he was doing a piss poor job of hiding it, but he's still a little surprised when Sidney hands him the monocle. ah... well, at least he can use that to see properly. it's still too dark and he still has to squint, but he can read without giving himself a headache now. he takes it with a shaky hand, putting it carefully in place.

he's more awake now, mostly aware of the situation, and... still completely numb. is it too optimistic to keep hoping that's part of the dream? that it's just going to wear off if he waits long enough...?

but for now, he's... fine. close enough to fine. he feels embarrassed for making a scene, and maybe focusing on that will help him with calming down. he reaches for the notebook, scrawling out a reply in messy handwriting.]

Sorry. It was just a dream, I'm fine.

[wolfetracks]

( sidney watches as the other shakes, as he tries to force himself to smile and hide his shame. about a nightmare, about being unable to feel anything at all- does he even feel the ground beneath them?

after a moment, sidney puts his hand over one of clamor's while the other can at least see, so he knows it's happening on some level, before sliding the notebook to himself to write- )

You have nothing to be sorry about. It's a terrible situation. But you're safe.

[sunstead]

[he can't feel it, but... he can still appreciate it. the gesture is enough. he's here, he's real, and so is Sidney...

exhale, remember how to breathe. once he's accomplished that much, he moves to write another response.]

Thank you. Sorry I woke you up.

[... Sidney literally just said not to apologize, but y'know. habits.

he hesitates before writing one more line, a little more slowly and carefully than the last.]

Is Noah still asleep? [Don't tell him about this is implied, but. he hopes it comes across. especially now, when Noah has already had a rough month... he really doesn't need to be worrying about Clamor.]

[wolfetracks]

You both apologize too much for things you shouldn't be sorry for.

( and the message is delivered with a flat look that dissolves back to concern and the concept of trying to beat away a sense of helplessness with a golf club. )

He is, yes. Sara, too.

( which, good. let the kids stay unmarred by this. they have their own things to shoulder. he can stay up with clamor, keep him calmed and distracted. he hopes that the flour children's curse isn't permanent. )