entrancelogs | i've made up my mind over and over; keep pressing rewind [open]

[Their lungs feel ready to burst, the urge to take a breath almost overwhelming. Their hands scythe through the water in swift, cleaving motions, the water resistance dragging at every action and slowing it to an intolerable crawl. The pressure behind their eyes and in their head floods (that's clever, isn't it? It's clever and funny) their ears with a pounding roar.

The door ahead of them - it won't open.

How do they know that with utter certainty?

It could be the oxygen deprivation. It could be any number of things. It could be the strain in their chest as they yearn to take in a gulp of air, swallow the water that will choke and drown them. They've never died by drowning before. That would be new, wouldn't it? New and exciting.

The door ahead of them. It won't open.

It won't open.

Have they tried to open it before?

They propel themself forward with a desperate kick of their legs, rocketing through the flooded hall and colliding harshly with the door set beside it instead.

It bursts open and with a spluttering cough, they collapse inside in an ungainly, trembling sprawl.]

Shit.

[Mick's alone in this room, he got separated from Leonard a while back and he isn't about to risk his neck trying to find him, given they had a rule about that. Leonard'll be okay, probably with the girls or something, no need to freak out. Mick, however, wasn't a strong swimmer and risking himself just swimming around? Kind of dumb. He just keeps picking rooms that are empty and trying to stay as long as he can before he hits the deadline.

Hell, it's working for him.

He doesn't expect some kid to come flying into the room, sprawling out in a horrible, wet heap on the floor. Are they dead? He isn't sure. He comes in closer and rolls the kid over, trying to see if their eyes are open.]

Hey? Hey! Kid, you okay or what?

[Their lungs heave for a moment, convulsing as they strain to drag air into their throat. Something grabs them, just for a moment - rolls them onto their back. They jerk, paroxysmal and involuntary, straining in preparation for bruises for slaps for being seized and dragged and thrown somewhere terrible for being bad maybe a closet maybe down a staircase -

Their eyes flick open, stained dark maroon, and they suck in a rattling breath. Do they know him - ?

Open their mouth to reply.

They wrench themself over to their side as all that emerges is a stream of water. They spit to get the taste out, dropping limply back to their back with one sodden sleeve going to their mouth.]

'M fine.

[Very convincing.]

Convincing.

[Mick huffs a little, unsure exactly what to do here. He debates lifting them up but it seems like a dumb idea. If they're fine where they are, they're fine. They ain't gonna choke as long as someone is watching. Mick sits himself next to them, not getting in their way and giving them a second.

Just to catch their breath.

He pulls his own goggles up and sets them on top of his head, looking at her properly with a small frown. Does he know this kid or not? There's so many kids in this place. It's unsettling.]

If you're not a strong swimmer, it ain't smart to just be floating around the halls, you know? You should stick close to someone else. They can help.

[Convincing.

They've heard his voice before, they think. Their thoughts are muzzy, difficult to get a bead on, so they let themself lose the thread of that one, let it wisp out into nothing. If it's important, it'll come back to them later. For now, they need to - breathe. And breathe.

Goggles. Rough voice. Admonishment. Their eyes drift shut for a moment before one of them opens, a thin slit of rusted maroon, and Frisk lifts a thin little arm for a moment in the parody of a flex.]

'M tougher than I look.

[They're unable to maintain it for very long. Their hand drops weakly back to the floor.]

Yeah, you're a tough a little bastard, I'll give you that.

[He huffs a laugh and watches, curious, unsure what to make of this. Of course, he's never seen her face on the network, not properly, he didn't have any reason to recognise her, given they always spoke in text but here he was anyway, squinting at her as if that would somehow make her make sense to him.

Just his luck, he parts ways with Leonard to avoid dealing with kids and look what happens. A kid turns up anyway.]

Come on, you gotta sit up. [He reaches out and offers a hand.] Sit up and prove you can stay up. You do that, I'll share my candy.

[Tough little bastard. That's one of those older, grown-up words they're not supposed to know, but they haven't met anyone - aside from maybe Toriel - who bothers with holding back that sort of thing. It's refreshing, in its own way. Don't need to be treated like kids.

The immediate instinct is to refuse the hand, can't trust that it won't all go south the second they take it, but their muscles are trembling with exhaustion and their hair has still fallen untidily into their eyes, so

They take it.

Sit up, albeit slowly, and they get themself semi-upright, scooting back until they can lean against a wall.

The moment they're able to hold themself to the wall on their own, they blink and peer at him, brow furrowing. The next question, to their mind, is utterly logical, though given their respective positions, it may seem bizarrely out of place:]

Are you okay?

... You're kidding, right?

[Mick looks himself up and down, just in case, before he pauses and tries to work out what wouldn't be okay with him. He's wet, like everything else here, he's kind of cold, kind of tired and pretty hungry but otherwise, he's fine.

This kid, however, isn't.]

I'm good, kid, I didn't get slammed around and half drowned. [Well, not right now.] How about you? You're looking a little off there, kinda dizzy.

[It's just good to make sure, isn't it? Don't want to be a burden on someone who's already having trouble. Can't remember if they've ever talked to him before. Have they done this before? They surpassed the last door because they remembered that it wouldn't open - so they knew. They knew it wouldn't open because it didn't open the last time.

Don't think they've done this before. They're still too breathless to say much, so they start with something simple, easy. A thumbs up.]

I'll be okay.

[They'll get there soon, in any case. Just give them a moment.]

I've seen you before.

[That is - around the mansion, or on the network. Not at this particular moment, before.]

If you say so.

[Mick sits himself opposite from them and slips his hand into his pocket. He pulls out a candy bar and tosses it across to them. He's supposed to ration food but they look like they could use a pick-me-up and Mick doesn't see why he can't spare one bar. He crosses his arms and watches them, his head cocked to the side.

Huh. Interesting.]

Do you? So hard to tell who I know and who I don't know, so many people, some never show their faces. [He hums lightly.] I'm Mick. You?

[They don't quite catch the bar in time. It tumbles into their lap and they react sluggishly, belatedly, fumbling as they pluck at the wrapper. It crinkles beneath their touch.

Chocolate.

Chara likes chocolate. That's a less painful thought than it would have been months ago. A square of a chocolate bar broken away and pushed across the table of a booth, paired with a battered little juice box. The memory brings rise to a faint smile, tremulous but present nonetheless.

Mick.

They were warned - not to let him know that they knew Leonard. They're bad at doing what they're told. And their thoughts are slow, dulled by lack of oxygen and bright snap from one location to another, but they remember talking to him. He and Leonard - partners, once. Things went wrong, as they usually do.

They'll start easy. Smile, and break off a corner of their candy bar.]

Frisk.

I remember you.

Ah. Now I remember, I do know you. You're the odd one.

[Wait, was that rude? He can't help it. They kind of were odd. They spoke in a strange manner sometimes but Mick found them interesting, unpredictable and that was always a draw. He smiles faintly and pulls a flask out of his jacket. Yep, he armed himself to the teeth with food and drink. He sips from the flask, it's vodka, it's doing a good job keeping him warm.

Or so he tells himself anyway.]

In a good way, don't get all shirty. Odd is good. We played with words that once, right? Yeah.

[He eyes them up and down.] Huh. I wasn't wrong, you really are a kid. I just didn't expect -- this. [He was hoping a little older. Something less to worry about.]

[The odd one. That's...certainly a word for it. Their first conversation had been strange by most standards, even if they're well accustomed to encounters most would consider strange.

He likes different. Different is good.

The chocolate clicks beneath their teeth as they chew. They haven't eaten in - a while, they don't think. Time's been funny for too long for them to know how long it's really been, but it's only once they swallow that it occurs to them that they are, in fact, extremely hungry.

Hungry is okay. They know how to pace themself. Don't scarf everything down at once. Maybe keep half of the bar for later, in their pocket.

Their head goes to one side, slightly, at the emphasis he places on this. His meaning isn't altogether clear.]

This?

Small. You're kind of little, ain't you? I was expecting something more ... well, I dunno. Like an angsty teenager, not a proper kid.

[They were a little too young to be talking the way they did, he would have been more concerned but it wasn't his place to get concerned. It was his place to make sure they were okay now but nothing more. He eyes the way they eat and debates if he can spare more food. He doesn't like parting with what he has, just in case others need it. And himself.

Mostly himself. He's useless and cranky when he's hungry.]

What happened anyway? How'd you get washed into the door?

That was a pretty nasty hit.

I'm twelve.

[It's not defensive, nor is it properly bitter. It's a statement of fact. They're thirteen now, technically, but as long as they're here, they'll never be any older than twelve, physically.

Do they talk like they're older? That was always something Chara was best at: using big words, talking about big impressive concepts like they understand them perfectly, even if they might not actually.

Frisk half-turns to glance at the door through which they arrived, tumultuously - as they always arrive in new places, it seems - and then back to Mick.]

I was gonna try a different door. It wouldn't open.

[Rather, they knew it wouldn't open. They must have tried it last time.]

The way you say that, kid, it's like twelve is supposed to be old or something. But it ain't. Just so you know.

[So many people here were so young. Maya was only like 15, and her weird little friend, this one was twelve and the kid with the whipped cream can couldn't be much older either. Personally, he was confused why wonderland kept taking kids. Just seemed kind of cruel.

How were they supposed to survive this kind of shit on and off all the damn time? He was struggling and he was an adult.]

Well, you got into this one, that's not the worst luck you could have. Though I don't think we can stay here for too long, gotta keep room hopping. That's what me and Snart were doing before we split up.

[They had to. Leonard had friends to protect and Mick would hold him back.]

Are you with anyone or alone?

[Snart. They're careful to keep the recognition from their face, and that is, in its own way, easy; that expressionlessness is a familiar shroud over all the ugly, unkind things children may say or feel or think. Not sure if he knows they know who Snart is. Best, safest, to ACT as thought they don't.]

I'm older than that.

[They've been here a year already, and between the LOADs and the RESETs, they could be years older. Does the time they spent between RESETs count any?

Either way, they don't seek to clarify after that. For all their even disposition, they can be infuriatingly vague, oftentimes to a fault.]

I was with my friend. We got separated.

[They...got separated at some point. How much time has elapsed since then? Did that change, with diverging paths?

They can't tell just now.]

I guess age isn't anything really. Just means you tend to be a little weaker, usually smart though. The older you get, the more your brain gets pickled. You stop trusting your gut.

[Mick takes another sip from his flask and slips it away into his pocket, finally pulling himself to his feet. He's wet, damp and missing his shoes. Steel top caps? Not handy for swimming. He was practically drowning himself with all the gear he was trying to keep.

He looks at them and wishes he could do something, offer to help them find their friend or something but it doesn't seem wise. He's not much else.]

I'd offer to help but I'm not much help right now. Not a strong swimmer.

[Hence why he's not out there with Snart and he's in here, biding his time and preparing to make a move through that damn hallway. Somehow. He hates this damn thing, water is not his area. Fire, however? That's where he'd shine.]

I got some food I can share and I can watch your back while we're here but your best bet is to keep going and try not to look for them right now or you're gonna end up killing yourself. Don't care about anyone but you until you're safe.

Edited 2017-02-06 20:42 (UTC)

[The bitter smell of what he's drinking reaches their nostrils, blocked up as they are with water and mucus. Gross. They're gross. Even worse for thinking about other things that smell that way and having to FIGHT back the chill running down their spine, reflexive. It's not his fault their brain jumps to bad things.

But that's nothing new. They finish a third of the candy bar, wrapping the rest up and stowing it carefully in their pocket. Their INV.]

It's okay.

[He's done...more than enough, really. More than most adults would, or should. Don't have to Spare them any more attention than he has already. Only they can't exactly go anywhere else.

Looks like he's stuck with them. They're very sorry about that.]

We're used to it. We'll find each other.

[Dying, that is. Sacrificing everything just for the chance to see someone they love. But that's not something ordinary people think, is it?]

You will. I got the same issue with me and Snart, we had to split but I know we'll catch up to each other soon. That's what -- what partners do.

[There's a pause there. It's still tricky. He and Leonard are talking, they're hanging out, they have a thing but he still feels uneasy around him. Giving titles like 'friend' isn't easy. He's decided to omit every title for now, not label it as anything but partners.

That word, it says a lot and yet very little. He likes it.]

Until then, you got me.

[Mick shrugs. He's not the best company but he could do his best. Can't be that hard.]

You need anything? I got some stuff from the last kitchen raid we did. If you're cold, I can probably find something too.

[He knows by now that 'making a fire' was not an option to keep warm. That had already backfired once, thanks.]

[Him and Snart. That's what partners do. It doesn't sound like they're still at odds, the way Leonard had implied - the way the portrait of bruises on his face had confirmed. They've done poorly at keeping their promises of late, and it would be prudent to get a little better at that, they think. They keep things, uncomfortably, centered away from that which is easiest to talk about - * Someone else - and steered back around to themself.]

I have a Partner too.

[Until then, they have him. He's shared his food, and talked to them, and made sure they weren't in any danger of drowning. That's more than some people they've known ever did. More than their -

More than most people they've known ever did.]

I'll be okay. You should save your food.

[For his partner. Partners are...important. You can't leave them hurting.]

You do? Partners are important. They keep you alive, they -- they have your back.

[Does he hesitate there? Yeah, only a little but he can't help it. It's a struggle, for him and Leonard, he's not sure how true that is these days. Leonard apparently died for him but he also left him. It's so many mixed signals and mixed emotions, neither of which he wants to deal with. As always, he pushes all those bad thoughts down and presses on.

No point in dwelling. Not to a kid either.

He shuffles a little closer and pulls out one of his bars, snapping it in half and holding the half out for them.] You gotta eat, you're growing and all, more energy being used. You gotta keep that strength up if you want to live.

I can spare some, it's not like I can't find my way back to the kitchen if I have to.

[Or Leonard will. One way or another, he didn't worry too much about food. He did, however, worry about them. They needed someone to have their back. Like a partner.]

Me and my partner, we're good. You ain't. So I'll sorta like pay it forward? I help you now and maybe one day, you'll help me. Deal?

[They keep you alive. They keep you safe. They make sure you don't go where they can't follow. They hold you to your word when you have trouble doing the same for yourself. They're the most important people in your life. Best friends forever. Soulmates.

They are a great Partner.

He breaks one of his candy bars in half, offering it to them. They've still got one half left - but maybe they can save a half for Chara, too. They like chocolate. It'll be like an inside joke, sharing chocolate in times where they're afraid they might die.

Not for themself, but for Chara.

They accept it only after a long moment of hesitation, and sequester it in their pocket.]

Thank you.

[He's smart, too. He knows to make it an exchange, not a gift. There's something admirable in that, and they respond with a small, uneven smile, quietly grateful.]

Deal. I'll help you.

See, good at deals, you got a lot going for you. You'll make a good partner.

[Mick smirks a little and nods his head before he looks down and starts eating his own half of the bar. Just to refuel and get his ass back out there. The trouble way, he had to catch up with Leonard and his little gang of kids and he didn't need to be left behind too long or he'd never find them again.

Thing is, he doesn't really want to abandon Frisk either.]

You sure you're gonna be okay by yourself, kid? Cause you can stick with me.

[He wasn't going to be able to be a massive amount of help but it was better to be with someone than alone.]

It'd be safer.

[* You are a great partner.

It'd be nice if that were true, and not just a beautiful, gold-tinted lie. They're not good at deals, and they...they're starting to think they hate making promises, too. They always end up breaking them, don't they?

No Integrity to this SOUL at all. Probably more...more suited to Patience.

Sounds about right.

Candy isn't the same as monster food, but it's something. It's a small flood of warmth, of strength, and a reminder of who they still need to find. The reminder's always there, of course, but this time it's more - tangible.

Something to touch.

He offers...out of the kindness of his heart, they can only assume. There's very little about a sodden child who won't eat properly, won't talk properly a,d won't do much besides joke, idly, about the integrity of partners, that's in any way appealing, is there? They swallow, and their brow dimples, for a moment.]

...don't wanna hold anyone back.

i've made up my mind over and over; keep pressing rewind [open]

1.3; 482;58 MINUTES; FLOODED HALLWAY

/slides in here

/reaches for also cw for abuse references annnnd emetophobia sorry lmao

so many beautiful cws

welcome to threading with me wheezes

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