WHO: Leo Thayer & Julian Blackwood WHEN: June 11 WHERE: Leo's place in Flushing. WHAT: Just a Malk spinning out of control and trying to hang on. WARNINGS: None STATUS: Unfinished/Incomplete
Hunger and anxiety both gnawed at Julian like a bunch of rats. One was a lot easier to ignore than the other right now. The hunger was a given, and so was the anxiety in a way, but he hadn't expected a single name to set off the latter. It wasn't a name he had expected to see or hear again.
Rusty.
He had been hearing the whispers in his mind since yesterday but had been trying to push them away and ignore them. It was quieter here at Leo's than it had been at the Cortez and so it made it easier to put them off until finally they had urged him to look at this new network that had gone up within the city, one of the reasons that Dorian had sent him here, and the whispers had gotten louder and louder in his mind, urging him on until he saw the latest post on there. He didn't know why he was surprised that there was another childe of Rusty's out there but the fact that he had just arrived in New York at the same time as Julian? It was too much a coincidence and Julian was too much of a Malkavian to believe in such things as coincidences.
Trying to figure it out was causing Julian to grow agitated along with his anxiety and he paced restlessly in Leo's living room as he tried to dig his way through the threads—searching, pulling, trying to search out the secrets in it and find the answers he sought. Instead, all he was getting was a jumble of half-thoughts and glimpses of things hidden from him, causing him to spiral deeper and deeper as he continued to follow the thread and putting himself at risk of getting lost within it all.
Anxiety tightened his chest and just made his mind all that more muddled as he tried to make sense of everything and worry over whether this Devan knew or not what he had done. Julian wasn't just becoming untethered, he was becoming completely unmoored and so he reached out for the one thread he could think of right now to hang on to keep him from sinking in so deep that it would be too late to pull himself back out. It was like a Malkavian version of 'find five things in the room to focus on'.
Wine. Rich soil. Salt. Chains. Rage.
Julian clung to that thread as his tether once more as he sunk down into a chair and shoved his fingers through his hair.