[OPEN] your very own mental breakdown

[wordvomit]

Who: Ned the Pie Maker and YOU
Where: first-floor kitchen
When: FIRST DAY OF THE EVENT; June 27th
Rating: PG to PG-13
Summary: kjsbdjLKADHJFKMWHY
The Story:

Why?

[Ned awoke to the event feeling the same way he does every other day when he wakes up: normal, slightly sluggish, and needing a quiet jolt of caffeine to his system. The abnormality in the early morning rise came in the form of a bona-fide swarm of diminutive dogs - puppies, to be exact - all of whom looked exactly like miniature versions of Digby.

But it isn't the frequent in-kitchen canine collisions that have him so bent out of shape, like a pipe cleaner twisted too far to be returned to its original perfectly pointy and straight form. No, it is that Ned has retrieved his usual assortment of rotten fruit from a special cooler in the back, intending to bake them into today's batch of pies, and that his first touch to a particularly moldy strawberry has yielded...

...nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The power that has plagued him, consumed his life and dictated his actions for so long, is simply...gone. That cannot be, he thinks, reaching for a handful of blueberries and, for his troubles, receives nothing more than mildew and mush.]

No.

[The kiwis, the bananas, the cherries and apples. All of them, the same result. All of them varying unappetizing shades of brown, gray, and green.

Ned is not yet certain what frustrates him more, the fact that his terrifying Gift refuses to work in a place where no one knows him, or the fact that his terrifying Gift refuses to work and he isn't at home in The Pie Hole, with Chuck, pulling her into a kiss to celebrate his ability to touch her the way he never could.]

No, no no no...no, not here. Why- ...why?! Why now? Why not- wh-why not...

[Why not at home, where it really matters most?]

Comments

[sorta_cinderella]

Ned?

[Hey, it's that incredibly creepy girl you've been trying to get along with! Isn't this a lovely opportunity for her to suddenly be in the kitchen? She stands in the doorway, blinking at his apparently meltdown.]

[wordvomit]

[Ned whips around with the urgency of a cornered animal, hastily wiping his hands off on his apron and shoving them into his pockets without further delay.]

Yes, that is my name, my name is Ned, u-um...how...are...you today?

[He swallows a heaping spoonful of anxiety and it settles uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.]

[sorta_cinderella]

Your waves are screaming in utmost terror and unpleasantness. I take it it's more than the rampant parade of puppies going around.

[She means well, honestly. She's actually concerned for him, since he's a decent guy.]

[wordvomit]

Waves? What waves? What are you talking about?

[In his usual fashion when defending himself, Ned folds his arms over his chest and and leans up against the counter. In the hopes of diverting attention from anything off about him, it's better to keep the conversation on Hana's own strange proclamations.]

[sorta_cinderella]

Your waves.

[She points at her head.]

I can hear them, emitting from you. From everyone. But yours are the loudest today, and filled with the most grief.

[appealingavarice]

[Greed's a little preoccupied with his stupid always-hungry body and the strangeness of dogs seeming to like him, but he's not so preoccupied that he doesn't smell the rotten fruits. For a moment he's worried that might be part of the event, but no, his pretzels are completely fine, so...]

I think you've been staring at those things too long.

[wordvomit]

[For an instant - perhaps even several seconds - Ned's utter confusion at Hana's words grows, expands like a balloon rapidly being filled with air. For that long moment, the Pie Maker stares at the girl with the serious demeanor, half-expecting her to admit that she is simply teasing him.

She's isn't. She can see- she can do something. Something no one else can.]

What- [His concern for himself lessens somewhat as he tries to occupy his mind with the only other thing it can clutch onto.] ...what do they look like? Or- or sound like?

[wordvomit]

Yes!

[Ned nearly bellows, rounding on the next entrant into the kitchen, agreeing with him wholeheartedly.]

Yes, I- I...I agree, it's- a travesty! A real- real tragedy, here...in the kitchen. Today. I can't bake pies with this-

[He makes a small, tight gesture toward the fruit.]

-this stuff. You are absolutely right.

[appealingavarice]

[...okay, that was a weird enough reaction to get the remainder of Greed's attention away from the little mob of tiny mutts on and around his feet.]

Are you going to get some better ones?

[wordvomit]

...Of course.

[Ned clears his throat and hastily scrambles to shove most of the fruit off of the counter and into the nearest rubbish bin, finding himself more than extremely unsettled that none of the berries are brightening under his fingers.

Just dead fruit.

Beneath normal hands.]

[sorta_cinderella]

They're being squished with your concern and curiosity... which is understandable.

[Keep in mind she says these things as if she's merely reading off a book page. Her voice never wavers, simply stating things as they are.]

I'm no mind reader, if that's what you're thinking. I have no idea what's causing your misery. I only know that you are miserable. That whatever's happened is barely being restrained. You'd scream it, if you weren't with people.

[notthesecondworstfighter]

[This isn't exactly the sort of thing Wash had expected to walk in on upon entering the kitchen. But then, he hadn't been expecting to wake up to puppypocalypse either, so... All he can think is Wonderland. Only here do things this bizarre happen.

A guy freaking out over some really gross old fruit is decidedly more bizarre than the puppy infestation, however, and it has him stepping toward Ned. There's a careful note in his voice when he speaks, as though he's worried the guy might round on him and...god even knows what.]

Uhm, I'm sure there's some fresh fruit in the fridge?

[thehobbsgirl]

[ Abigail doesn't usually wake up this early, but there had been so many puppies in her bed that she gave up trying to go back to sleep. Caffeine and some kind of breakfast are absolutely essential, which is why she goes to find herself something, rather than waiting to eat with Hannibal, as she often does.

It dawns on her belatedly that her surroundings are looking particularly drab, but maybe it's just the morning light messing with her. It doesn't occur to her that there might be other disturbances to her environment, besides the profusion of puppies, until she sees a guy in the kitchen having a complete meltdown over some blueberries covered in fuzzy mold. Immediately assuming the worst, she goes over to the fridge and yanks the door open, asking: ]

Oh no, don't tell me all the food's gone bad...

[ She has no way of knowing, of course, that Ned expected the fruit to be rotten ]

[wordvomit]

...I would scream,

[he replies with no small amount of dismay, because it is all the self-control that Ned can muster not to vocalize his frustration with anguished yelling.

Quickly wiping at his eyes - which have no doubt begun to well up at the edges - Ned takes a shaky breath.]

You're- You're not wrong, it's just- it's not important. I'm...homesick.

[sorta_cinderella]

It is important. You are a good person. And good souls like yours... don't deserve the torment that's ripping you apart.

[She's only a hugger when it comes to her close friends and family, and she's not even sure he'd be comfortable with one. But she wants to offer some sort of condolences. She takes off her black cape, and offers it to him, in lieu of a handkerchief.]

Cry. Let it out.

[wordvomit]

[Ned is not the sort of person prone to violent outbursts...at least, he isn't anymore. He hasn't physically retaliated to bullying or prying inquiries since he was a boy, when he learned that such reactions would bequeath unto him an equal and opposite reaction.

The Pie Maker's Third Law of Thermodynamics, as it were. (He got the shit kicked out of him once, and isn't keen to have it happen again.)

Taking that into account, it is understandable that as a stranger approaches him in the kitchen during his time of extreme vulnerability, Ned backs away with the same number of steps, his hands clutched tightly behind him as he shakes his head.]

I- I- ...y-yes, of course there is, I'm just- it's...it was an overreaction, I'm being- silly. The kitchen is playing tricks on me like some kind of sentient culinary prankster, is all.

[Finally Ned looks at his guest, whose voice was unfamiliar, and does an expert double-take at the face. He looks like a younger version of Will.]

...do I know you?

[wordvomit]

[It's very early. So early that Ned thought he might avoid seeing other people, were it not for the ridiculous number of puppies running amok and jumping on residents in their sleep.

Poor pie-making planning, on his part.]

N-No, [he replies with a start, hastily turning to address the newcomer and her completely valid concerns.] No, it's- I think it was just me. It's playing a trick...on...me. I think.

[He hopes. He can still make pie with fresh fruit, of course, it's just an uncomfortable surprise to find that something he considered a defining feature is suddenly gone.]

[wordvomit]

[As unquestionably odd as it is that Tohru's quiet, unassuming (and slightly creepy) friend is offering him her sympathies, they come without question or extended inquiry and that is precisely the sort of unobtrusive understanding that Ned needs.

Slumped against the counter he nods slowly, sliding down the side to the floor with his long limbs askew and his head in his hands. Hana doesn't ask. There isn't any supposition. She just holds out her little black cape and he takes it, burying his face in weird-smelling fabric.]

It's so stupid, [he whispers between jagged gasps for air.] So...so stupid...

[sorta_cinderella]

[She kneels down next to him, her hands on her lap. She wants to ask what's going on, but it's far too soon, when he's being swallowed up by his own sadness. She watches him, curious but not prodding.]

If you wish it, I won't tell Tohru, or anyone, of what I'm seeing and hearing. But I will stay here as long as you wish it. And I believe you will need it for some time.

[thehobbsgirl]

[ Abigail turns away from the fridge; his theory must be right, because the rest of the food in there looks just fine. Even through the muddle of sleepiness, there seems something very off about his reply. Something very strange about the man's demeanor generally. Awfully jumpy, isn't he? She rubs the heel of her hand over one eye, willing herself to wake up enough for this conversation. ]

Why would it be a trick on just you? [ She at least doesn't have to ask what the It in question is - she's gotten used to the idea of Wonderland as having a sentience and rather mischievous, horrible habits. ] Are you saying things just go bad if they're yours or... around you? [ Stranger afflictions have happened, in this place. Unceremoniously, Abigail grabs an orange from the counter and holds it near to Ned. Nothing happens. ]

1/2

[wordvomit]

I have no idea, maybe it's just-

[Maybe it's only for the event. Only for the event. The muted colors, the puppies, the lack of his- no, that's silly. The event can't possible take away something stuck to him so tightly. So securely. Something else must be wrong.]

2/2

[wordvomit]

[In his postulating, Ned barely notices that the girl has moved closer and is holding a perfectly good citrus fruit next to him.]

...what are you doing.

[thehobbsgirl]

Seeing if it rotted. [ Abigail's face flushes slightly but she holds her chin high. She doesn't know how this place works, it was a perfectly reasonable guess! She draws her hand back again, starts to peel the orange mechanically ] You said it was a trick on you, so I thought you were making it happen.

[ She wrinkles her nose at the various decomposing fruits arranged around him and, when she has finished peeling it, offers him half the orange wordlessly ]

[wordvomit]

[A number of small, long-haired golden retrievers cluster around them, as friendly puppies are wont to do, but Ned can't bring himself to touch any of them. They only serve to remind him of the day Digby was hit by a truck, the day Ned touched his dead dog in the road and something tingled and sparked at the end of his finger, the day Digby came back to life.

Ned lifts his head, but doesn't speak for a long moment. He simply looks at her, arms wrapped around his knees, chin resting on black cloth.]

...please don't- please don't tell anyone.

[wordvomit]

Making fruit rot isn't my specialty. [Well. Not intentionally.] Sorry to disappoint.

[Ned raises an eyebrow - is she blushing? it's hard to tell with the muted color palette - and takes her reply for what it is. At least she doesn't seem hard-pressed to wrest more information from him.

He can compose himself. He's been bottling everything in for years.

The Pie Maker accepts the other half of the orange.]

...I'm Ned.