heart game - MK, rinku

[wroughtandtempered]

I’m sorry. I tried— I tried, but I can’t keep going—

I don’t think I can do this alone, so— Please. Please—

I need help.

Comments

Re: THE CLINIC

[noodleboi]

"A clinic. Okay. Same rules as before. I can sweep again. Explore whatever you want to this time, Rinku. And then we can work on those drawers together. Maybe we can fix the others up and get them all back in?"

MK hoped that would work. He moved for the broom and dust pan, touching this one.

Re: THE CLINIC

[wroughtandtempered]

Longing and determination sings through you, equally matched by spite and plain old stubbornness. The task ahead isn’t going to be easy, but like fuck will you let that stop you.

Re: THE CLINIC

[noodleboi]

MK smiles as he gets to sweeping. "Just because it's hard doesn't mean it isn't right," MK says and smiles as he works.

"No one can say you aren't determined, Eve. Like, no one can say that ever."

Re: THE CLINIC

[wroughtandtempered]

The floor has already largely been swept; there's not much work left for him in that regard. Soon the wood floor is clean.

Re: THE CLINIC

[noodleboi]

"Okay. That's done. Someone beat me to a lot of it. Okay...table," MK approaches the examination table and gently touches it, running his fingers over the scorched metal.

Re: THE CLINIC

[wroughtandtempered]

Nothing happens.

Most of the tools sitting atop it are typical for a jack-of-all-trade’s doctor’s office: scalpels, forceps, tweezers, a stethoscope. However, there are also a few out of place items: a soft green scarf, a silver bracelet, a bandage with cartoon monkeys on it, and a small music box.

There are bandages currently in the pot, though the water doesn’t seem hot enough to sterilize them.

...Aaand Rinku has just used foreceps to knock another mirror shard out of the flames and onto the floor.

Re: THE CLINIC

[noodleboi]

MK touches the cartoon monkey bandage first. He'll deal with the mirror shard thing after.

cw passive suicidal thoughts

[wroughtandtempered]

You remember—

(Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. This memory is quiet and blank; the thoughts-that-aren’t-your-own come with effort and stumbling, like trying to walk across a wildly swaying surface in the dark. There’s no stability. There’s a hole in everything, impossible to ignore and equally impossible to describe.)

Discussion. MK talking. You do your best to follow the conversation, but you feel… odd. Not all the way there, and so fucking tired that when MK obliquely brings up the possibility of you dying it almost sounds…

Like it’d be a relief. Like it’d be better. Things would stop happening so much, and you wouldn’t be dragging anyone down, and—

—but Choco would be fucking devastated. …Something’s wrong with the thought, anyway— what the fuck is wrong with you? That you’d think like that.

...MK notices that something’s wrong, though. Sits down. Offers an ear, and you tear your mind away from a cutting realization you can no longer remember the shape of, wood and leather fitting perfectly in your hands before coming violently apart to turn instead to...

It’s a brief, momentary scramble of memory: Calling him a pants-on-head moron. The rage that had burned in you, when you’d found out what he’d done to your kindhearted girlfriend. ...Him calling you cool— and the look on his face as he’d set himself on fire, again and again and again. And now—

“Like talking to a stranger,” he finishes, strained and a little desperate, and... something in you that had gone very quiet stirs a little and says, emphatically, no.

You don’t want this clumsily kind boy to be a stranger. And maybe it’s a betrayal, but— you don’t think you want him to be an enemy, either. You want— you think you want—?

...You want to help.

Re: cw passive suicidal thoughts

[noodleboi]

MK shakes as the memory plays out, the feelings, that oh so familiar feeling. Freedom from it all, for just a moment.

That nothingness.

His eyes lose focus as he drifts into his own memories. Fire. Choking. He can't breath. He can't move. He can only watch.

He can only-

"stop," He says quietly to himself. "Be here. Now. Just be here. Now. Be. Here. Now..." He feels the tears running down his cheeks and making his fur all damp.

She wants to help. She called him here to help her. That's what he is going to do. Help.

It's what he's good at. It is what he loves to do. He's the Monkie Kid.

"We...definitely need a meeting of the mind fucked club after this..." He mumbles and goes to pick up the mirror shard.

Re: cw passive suicidal thoughts

[wroughtandtempered]

Your fingers close around the mirror shard.

Instantly, pain slices through your fingers— but when you look there’s no sign of blood. Instead, you can hear Eve’s voice, faintly:

“’First, do no harm’… am I really cut out for this? Like I won’t do more harm than good.”

As you take it, the fire under the pot abruptly leaps, no longer sputtering as it flares to life. It’s not long before the pot set over it begins to finally boil in earnest, and the room starts to fill with warmth.

Re: cw passive suicidal thoughts

[noodleboi]

MK winces and looks at his fingers again. No blood. Ow. Still, the warmth builds in this place. Good. That's good!

"Okay. Finding the mirror shards seems to be helping. This is good," MK turns his attention to the drawers. He goes over to see if he can help restore any of them.

[roundandaround]

Sniff. Rinku rubs her eyes and nods.

"So we gotta fix a mirror? I bet we can manage that!"

She pushes forward a smile and looks around. It still feels like they're being watched, but she's gonna leave the drawers to MK and try the music box.

[wroughtandtempered]

You remember—

A jumble. Several memories, just barely separate enough to detangle— Kantera singing something soft and steady while you claw your way out of a morass of guilty self-loathing and a memory of agony that isn’t your own. Kantera singing I’m here, despite everything, and so are you— a lifeline to pull you out of terror and mostly back to yourself, despite the thick drugged fuzziness in your mind.

Kantera singing I’m here, hurting, help me at the top of his lungs, because he needed it, and your own voice raised in harmony to warn off anyone who would try to take advantage of him for his pain. The relief in his raw voice after, and your gladness that this time you could help heal him.

[roundandaround]

Whether it's her own affinity for music or her transformation in this space compelling her, Rinku starts to sing along without thinking. In Kantera's voice, in words she doesn't know, she sings to the room, to MK, to Eve wherever she is, to the thing that must be watching them now.

While she sings, she goes to help MK
repair the drawers. It looks like it'll be a lot of work, after all. It's better if there's more people.

[wroughtandtempered]

They can have the burns sanded away and new veneer glued on, but with how many drawers there are, it'll take a long time...

[noodleboi]

"Every little bit helps, right?" MK gets to work on at least one. If he had his clones in here, this would be easy.

But no clones today. At least he can get one drawer back inside where it belongs. He does look around as he's sanding, wondering where that watching presence is coming from.

[wroughtandtempered]

There's no clear sign of the source of that presence, but it does seem to soften some as he works— more like someone watching over him than just watching him.

As he finishes the drawer... well. Suddenly he knows a lot more about the medicinal uses of St. John's wort.

[roundandaround]

"A burned-out clinic... and it's kinda scary, too."

Rinku walks to the exam tables and gulps, then lays a hand on the burned one. She starts looking around for any supplies that might go with it.

[wroughtandtempered]

There are supplies on the steel table! Most of the tools are typical for a jack-of-all-trade’s doctor’s office: scalpels, forceps, tweezers, a stethoscope. However, there are also a few out of place items: a soft green scarf, a silver bracelet, a bandage with cartoon monkeys on it, and a small music box.

There are also bandages currently in the pot, though the water doesn’t seem hot enough to sterilize them.

...Something glitters in the flames below the pot.

[roundandaround]

Shiny object? Shiny object. Rinku grabs the forceps to try and reach into the fire for it.

"What's in here? I bet it's important."

[wroughtandtempered]

She doesn't quite manage to get a grip on it, but she does knock it out of the flames and onto the floor. It turns out to be a shiny shard of mirror.

[roundandaround]

"Eh? Broken mirror? MK-san, is this what we're looking for?"

After calling attention to that, she's gonna put the forceps back and go for the monkey bandages. She loves monkeys! And broken glass is hazardous!

[noodleboi]

"Careful with touching the mirror. It felt like it cut me when I touched it. I can grab it if you want. I got the other one already," MK offered Rinku as he shook off his latest memory. She goes for the bandage so he'll grab the mirror shard.

[wroughtandtempered]

You remember—

(Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. This memory is quiet and blank; the thoughts-that-aren’t-your-own come with effort and stumbling, like trying to walk across a wildly swaying surface in the dark. There’s no stability. There’s a hole in everything, impossible to ignore and equally impossible to describe.)

Discussion. MK talking. You do your best to follow the conversation, but you feel… odd. Not all the way there, and so fucking tired that when MK obliquely brings up the possibility of you dying it almost sounds…

Like it’d be a relief. Like it’d be better. Things would stop happening so much, and you wouldn’t be dragging anyone down, and—

—but Choco would be fucking devastated. …Something’s wrong with the thought, anyway— what the fuck is wrong with you? That you’d think like that.

...MK notices that something’s wrong, though. Sits down. Offers an ear, and you tear your mind away from a cutting realization you can no longer remember the shape of, wood and leather fitting perfectly in your hands before coming violently apart to turn instead to...

It’s a brief, momentary scramble of memory: Calling him a pants-on-head moron. The rage that had burned in you, when you’d found out what he’d done to your kindhearted girlfriend. ...Him calling you cool— and the look on his face as he’d set himself on fire, again and again and again. And now—

“Like talking to a stranger,” he finishes, strained and a little desperate, and... something in you that had gone very quiet stirs a little and says, emphatically, no.

You don’t want this clumsily kind boy to be a stranger. And maybe it’s a betrayal, but— you don’t think you want him to be an enemy, either. You want— you think you want—?

...You want to help.

[roundandaround]

Rinku drops the bandages on the table.

Hurt? Mind all mixed up? (She holds her own head.) Eve hating herself? MK having done something wrong? Guilt? Guilt for wanting to help someone with their guilt? She stares. A tear, foreign and hesitant, falls down her face, and then another.

"Eve-chan... That was that game that hurt you guys so much, wasn't it?"