WHO: Morgan Yu & Dan Torrance WHEN: Wednesday WHERE: the woods right outside the Spellman Mortuary WHAT: Killer Rabbits 1- Weird Space Mimic 0 RATINGS/WARNINGS: Injuries, identity issues STATUS: Complete
The problem with research was it sometimes went wrong. Most animals took a dislike to Morgan, as somehow some of them seemed to sense how utterly alien she actually was, and when she’d heard about the killer rabbits she’d wanted to go see what it was all about. After all, her own species was dangerous, but could be taught. And she was still curious where the lines were for humans.
Point A should have pointed to Point B, but she hadn’t considered the aggressive nature. After all, what was a rabbit compared to a Typhon? The answer had proved to be; nothing alone but something in greater numbers.
Considering her own kind thrived on numbers she really should have considered that. In the end she’d been forced to flee, the damage she’d taken too much to keep a firm grasp on ‘Morgan’ so now it just stood on a path, not moving. It wasn’t bleeding, they didn’t have much in the way of blood, but parts of it’s arm were gone, and there were a few chunks missing.
It had tried going for help once it had lost Morgan but it didn’t know how effective that was. It still knew enough not to go and hurt the others, but it also didn’t want to create panic. So it just stood, slightly swaying.
Living in a mortuary in the woods, sometimes it was difficult to gauge what time of day it was just by looking - sometimes light didn’t penetrate the dense canopy of trees, but right now, Dan was on a schedule and it was past twilight, where paths became deep, deep brown and the moon bleached the stones beneath. On his short trek to the waypoint he smelled the usuals, loam and decomposing leaves, he sensed the rustling bushes and -
Well. There was something else. Something on that path to the waypoint - black, looming, with two lights he thought may actually be eyes; but otherwise the shape was massive and ghostly. It gave him a shiver at first, straight to his bones, but then when he reached out with psychic feelers he realized that something about it was...familiar.
It was the cadence to its thoughts, an inner murmur that was mechanical and robotic with absolutely no human inflection at all. The Shining snapped back. “Morgan?” he asked cautiously.
At least it still remembered Morgan. It had worried about that, that falling into a state like this might make it lose that part. That it would revert back to its instincts and just wander around the forest, lost and searching for the Coral. That it did not was a relief. It was just having some difficulty finding the Morgan shape again, it’s own being much more familiar now it was wounded.
So when it heard the name it raised its head, repeating; “M̷̬͍͇̍͂̃̚ơ̸̠̅r̴̛̛̺̳͉̲͇̱̝̞͍̦̟͍͇̅͛̇̆͐́̚g̶̲̝̦̤̙͚̋̇̓ȁ̸̢͙̭̖̗̦͕͎̟́̽͌̏͠ñ̶͎̹̥̞͇̦̜̝͌͛̔̿͋̊̽͆̂̋̿͊?” It’s pitch was darker than Dan’s but it almost matched. It shuffled closer, not wanting to move. It knew it’s kind could inflict fear on humans, and it remembered Dan. But it did move into a patch of light. It could not otherwise indicate it was wounded. But it didn’t move closer and just swayed a bit more. It was odd to want to be able to communicate more; it was a purley Morgan thing to want and it was still learning how to deal with all that but right now it would make things easier, and it had lost it’s device.
Okay, this was - definitely one of the oddest things Dan had ever been privy to. But he could handle it, since clearly this was Morgan and clearly she was hurt. That set off all sorts of questions because while he had spent nearly a decade working in hospice, in medicine, he had zero idea of how to use modern medicine on someone without, you know, standard human physiology.
Maybe if he got her shifted back to the form he usually recognized that would be a positive step. Of course, he had zero idea of how to do that either. Flying by the seat of his pants here, great.
“It’s okay,” he stepped closer too, holding out his hand if she needed the contact, the comfort - he was real, flesh and blood; he just hoped that those baser instincts didn’t kick in. He didn’t want to hurt her more than she already was. “You’re injured? How can I help?”
Dan wasn’t Sabrina. He wasn’t Crowley, either. But he was part of the weird unit of Mortuary People that it had come to call ‘home’. Oddly it was reminded of his Mug. It helped, a little. At his questions again, it repeated; “ī̴̼t̷͈́'̴̗͛s̷͔̿ ̷̟̅o̴̜̿k̵̇ͅa̶̟̚y̷̛̻.̵̪̐ ̷͚̊Ý̶̨o̸̡͂u̶̺̕’̴͖̈́r̶͚̀e̸̮̒ ̴͕̈́î̵̬n̸͙̅j̴͂ͅu̷̟̔r̴̨̐ë̸̳́d̷̤͒?̷̟̃ ̸̫͒H̶̳͝o̷͇͝w̷̘̔ ̷͕̔c̸̻͆a̸͔̋n̷̼̕ ̵̅ͅI̸̮͆ ̴̗̿h̴̠̒é̶ͅľ̴̲p̵̨̍?̶̠̃” It was trying, but no matter how much it did, it’s nature only allowed for so much.
But he reached out his hand. It recognized that. Alex had done that. There was a moment of debate, instinct versus learning before it moved. One moment it stood, the next it was in front of Dan, almost a blur. It was why Morgan always took such pains to walk, moving as her kind did was often erratic and disjointing to see.
It held out it’s one still remaining hand before going to touch it. It had never asked how it had felt to Alex, but they were part of space. It didn't want to hurt Dan though, which was good and proved it was starting to learn and see better. After a moment or two of touching it solidified a bit. Unfortunately Morgan had never learned what injuries on humans looked like. When she’d gotten hurt in the simulation it had never appeared on the form she’d been watching so even though she had various lacerations, scratch marks and one it’s hands was missing none of that showed in Morgan.
The echo, the feedback, sounded like grinding gears - like a truck downshifting on the highway, but Dan recognized that it was trying, but communication just was going to be a little difficult. His hand touched Morgan’s (well, or this form she was in - her true form?) and she was more solid than he was expecting - the way her limbs seemed to float there, shadowy tendrils, he almost expected his hand to pass through. But it didn’t.
He curled his fingers around hers, best he could. And while he had the idea to project calm to see if she could morph back to the form that was Morgan, to even find Morgan, he was aware that she didn’t exactly feel emotions - he also knew that what was calm to someone wasn’t calm to the next person; the feel of the summer sea, or a tropical night - that probably wouldn’t work now.
But he’d shuffled through her memory bank. There were a few things he could make sense of - remnants of Morgan, with the hope she’d come back. “Relax,” he said, expecting the ghostly figure to repeat it. He inhaled and then exhaled, breathing out -
Feeding ducks alongside Crowley, the heat was hazy and sultry, the lake waters flat as a mirror, laying there without even so much as a ripple
“Relax,” he said again, keeping his eyes on her.
It didn’t so much blink at him, it couldn’t, but it did tilt its head at him. It was the most human expression she knew. And he was right, she would repeat; “r̴̻̗̘̲̜̊͛͑̏͐͑̅͑̅̀͂͝ę̸̤̮̹͚̓̌̽̋̌l̶̡͇͓͇͈̞̲̄̌̈̉̉̄̀̈́͂́̑͌̕a̸̧̡͔̮̯͚͈̠̍͗̊̈x̶̧̡̡̛͇̹̬̬̭̣̠͇͚̱̍̋́͑̈̈̊̀̏͋̈͘” It did bristle at the memory, whether or not it was angry was hard to tell but the pattern that it was did shift a little. Even if she could have, she wouldn’t be able to really express why she’d done it. Maybe it was loss? Crowley had been the first creature to ever really accept her, after all.
But it did still, as much as it could. And slowly, Morgan took more and more shape. She didn’t show any of the wounds, but the pain still radiated off her. She was obviously uncomfortable and seemed more inclined to hide away somewhere then anything else, but she was calm, for what passed as that.
But she held out her other hand and then repeated; “r̴̻̗̘̲̜̊͛͑̏͐͑̅͑̅̀͂͝ę̸̤̮̹͚̓̌̽̋̌l̶̡͇͓͇͈̞̲̄̌̈̉̉̄̀̈́͂́̑͌̕a̸̧̡͔̮̯͚͈̠̍͗̊̈x̶̧̡̡̛͇̹̬̬̭̣̠͇͚̱̍̋́͑̈̈̊̀̏͋̈͘. She was trying to convey she was relaxed now, and wouldn’t go off hurting anyone but she realized it was probably an odd sensation to hear words while her lips weren’t moving. There was a reason Morgan never spoke, really. This would be why. She tilted her head, motioning to the device. It would go easier after all, and hers was still missing and she was reluctant to go get it.
The pain Dan could feel - it was sharp and colorful, spots-dancing-in-front-of-the-eyes type of color, the ache of muscle and bone. He didn’t know if there was anything to be done for it - he couldn’t put stitches into a wraith-looking creature, composed of actual shadows - but if there was, he’d try. First thing though, now that Morgan had returned, he found her device a little ways up the forest path - he knew she communicated this way, so least he could do was give it back to her.
“I’ll take you home?” he offered. “Make some coffee. Or, well - I’ll let you have the mug?” That whole thing was still a little confusing to him but if it would help then he’d just go with it. Everyone was soothed by different things. He wasn’t judging.
But the woods were now clearly compromised so the sooner they got away from another potential bunny attack, the better.
Morgan did what she always did whenever she’d felt pain in the simulation; she ignored it. It needed time, and there were no medical operators here, and no real proof they’d even work on her. She’d need time to recuperate. She took her device though, holding it close.
Odd how familiar this was compared to her actual form. It was easier, like this. She didn’t respond for a while, fumbling with the device before it spoke for her “I’d like the mug.” Mugs were easy and familiar, her first real memory. They didn’t need all the complications of Morgan. And there was nothing that needed her direct attention.
“I think, I’m getting better. I am sorry if I caused distress.” she knew enough to at least offer apologies for that. It seemed the right thing to do.
“No need to apologize,” Dan replied, gravelly but reassuring. “I’m just glad I found you out here.” She had kind of been floating there, obviously injured - who knew how long that would last, or if she’d just heal herself at some point. But still, it was better to heal at home than be out in the middle of the woods. Alone.
They weren’t far from home, actually - he’d been heading for the waypoint, to port into the city, so he just turned around and shuffled back with Morgan. He kept an eye on her now too, in order to make sure that she wasn’t limping or otherwise afflicted with wounds he couldn’t see on the surface level.
“So you encountered the bunnies?” was his guess, as he let them in and went for the homey aspects of the kitchen right away - save for Hilda’s spiders, it actually was pretty cozy. Groceries tucked in the pantry and in the fridge, always stocked, and colorful fruit bowls and jars on the counter. The coffee began brewing right away and he found one of his mugs for Morgan - it was simple, white on the outside and blue on the inside, from the gift shop of the hospital he worked at. The only design was a heart shape and the squiggle of an EKG line, nothing fancy. But she could have it, if she wanted it.
She would have done as she had when she’d encountered the owl-bear, or been trapped inside the well. She’d have just stayed until she’d found a way out. Asking for help wasn’t something that registered to her, and to her thinking the others had a lot more to be preoccupied with her going missing.
She walked, purposefully, and didn’t show any outward sign of injuries. She didn’t know how to. “Yes,” the device gave. “I forgot about numbers. It is gratifying to know that even if I lose Morgan’s shape, I retain parts of her. Enough where I will not harm anyone.” she followed him, although she wouldn’t have minded wherever he took her and stood as he brewed the coffee.
She took the mug and set her fingers over it. She knew every detail but it was good to know it was the same. She took her device then, and let it say; “do not let the others worry. I will be fine.” And then folded in on herself, almost warping until there was a second mug, exactly the same as the first. The only difference was it sort of rolled, mostly away. Her instinct was to be alone, to let no others see her wounds. And a mug was a familiar shape, and didn't require a lot of effort.
“Um - “
Dan had never seen that trick before, i.e., someone literally turning into a mug. “Okay, yeah - I’ll let them know. And if you need anything after you’re feeling better, I’ll be around.” Could she even still hear him? He could still feel her, the pain that was radiating off of Morgan. It was something he wished he could do something about, but it appeared as if he couldn’t - she had to heal in her own way, he supposed.
By being a coffee mug. Well, whatever worked. It was better than drowning in a bottle or finding the nearest solid surface to do a bump of coke off of.
So he made his coffee, and he used the not-Morgan mug, sitting at the table with her nearby. Actually, it was kind of nice. He hadn’t been lying when he said her particular AM radio station was a pleasant switch from the usual. But this way, they didn’t have to talk if they didn’t want to, they could just - enjoy a comfortable silence. Or, well, Dan was enjoying it.
And rest assured he’d enjoy the literal, actual fucking quiet while he could.