InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "SQUEE!"

ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ (arcane) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2017-11-10 18:25:00

Entry tags:

loki, sigyn

just a young gun, with a quick fuse
Who: Sigyn [James] and Loki [Nish]
What: Escaping the Halloween party and then tending to the inevitable injuries
Where: The Rec Room, then back to James' apartment
When: October 31, 2017, 10pm

That had been more than a bit of a tingle running beneath the skin, courtesy of the wolfish man who seemed to think the residents gathered at this party like herded sheep (honestly, had they all been that stupid?) were his own personal playthings. James, for a moment, felt a live wire beneath each of his nerves - and then the crackle, the switch. He could recall hitting the floor, could recall getting up, and he was still present. Barely. A whisper in his own mind and obviously not himself - Sigyn was in control, and it was more obvious than the last time. They were one, even physicalities merging - his skin was paler, his hair was lighter (not platinum blonde, but certainly not the coal shade it usually was), his eyes too. Pale and silvery, and a certain soothing warmth extending outward from him.

From her.

“Loki,” she started, rubbing the head of her vessel - that electric shock had hurt. This was only a human meatsuit, after all. James wasn’t invincible. But now that Sigyn was in control, fully, she felt the natural defenses clicking into place and her steely resolve rising up within her. “We must leave. Past those dogs - we can make it, if we work together.”

Nish had fallen to her hands and knees on the floor, feeling a shifting inside her until they were no longer her hands and knees. Loki lifted his head and looked over at James - no, Sigyn. His - Nish’s - eyes had shifted to a bright, icy blue, and his skin now carried his internal chll, so that the floor beneath his hands had begun to delicately frost over.

Nish was still present, still aware and sharing space almost equally with Loki in her own head, but Loki was in charge of her body, even as inebriated as it was. He became aware of a harsh pounding in his chest, more than a regular heartbeat, and he pressed one hand against it as if he could stop it.

’It must have been that shock,’ Nish said to him worriedly. Loki grunted an affirmative, and it took him a minute before he could pick himself up to stand, reaching out to use Sigyn’s hand for help. She wasn’t worried about the chill, or the cold that seeped into her from Loki’s hands either; thus, she took one and helped him up when he reached for her.

He looked around at the pandemonium around them, and then turned his focus on the dogs his wife had suggested. “You’re right,” he said to her, though he didn’t relish the idea of fighting anything at all. He had never been a fighter, even in the ancient days, though he had defended himself and others when the situation demanded it. He was better at manipulating others to fight for him.

He looked down at his hands, satisfied to feel the frost just under his skin. “I think I can freeze one,” he said, “but I’m not sure how...strong I am. My vessel was weakened by alcohol, and that...shock.” He could try talking to them too, but was unsure whether his persuasion would work on beasts.

“I’m with you,” Sigyn promised, taking his hands briefly for a reassuring squeeze - hers were warm, it was a shock unto its own to have such heat meeting ice. But not in a bad way. The kind of pleasant shivering sensation that rippled through someone when they came in to greet a fire at the hearth after a long winter’s day - or at least, that’s what James equated it all to, in his mind, when he registered the touch of skin on skin. To Loki and Nish, that touch was almost on the edge of too hot, but ended up instead feeling like a pleasant embrace of warmth, like the sun melting fresh snow.

She let go then, assessing the dogs - they were unlike anything she’d ever seen before, the very human-like hands on the end of their tails both fascinating and disturbing. “Freeze one, then follow me - I’ll make a path for escape.” Loki nodded, sizing them up and moving to protectively step in front of his wife.

Can you kindly not get me mauled by those hellhounds? James asked, his inner voice weak and barely a murmur. But the point remained. Still, Sigyn’s thought was that he should try to trust her - she wouldn’t do anything to harm her host.

Loki stepped forward, keeping himself between the dogs and Sigyn. “Hey!” he called, injecting his words with command and drawing their attention. They may have been somewhat intelligent, as his words managed to force them to focus on him and not on Sigyn. “You want to play? Come on, then,” he said with a smirk, stepping forward again (which would have looked a lot cooler if he was not currently wearing a strappy dress.)

The leader of the pack lunged forward at him. Instinctively, he raised his hands, catching the dog by its muzzle and struggling to hold its jaws shut as it knocked him to his back, claws raking painfully across his stomach, shredding satin and skin. The dog whimpered and tried to get away from him as frost penetrated its flesh, slowly but steadily freezing it until it stopped struggling and fell limp on top of him. A second later, in the blink of an eye, the hound’s body evaporated like smoke, leaving Loki sprawled on the floor, confused, but with one less hound to worry about.

It was complete and utter chaos now - snarling and growling, food and drink being flung every which way, splattering here and there. People rushing to get out. Sigyn noticed the snow piled up elsewhere, but her main concern was these dogs - and fighting them. She didn’t really have offensive powers like how Loki did, she couldn’t manipulate the ice and the frost - but she could do something.

Two dogs on either side of her, they sprang - she thrust her hands out as the air rippled and shimmered and it was like they hit an invisible wall, tails whiplashing angrily in their failed attempts to grab her. They kept coming but she blocked them, precious exit in sight; the attacks from their hands, their tails, also kept coming - sometimes they got hits in, tearing at James’ clothing, but for the most part she was able to keep them away.

“Loki, go on,” she insisted. “Hurry.”

Loki rolled onto his side, one hand on his stomach to inspect the damage. Fleshwounds, three thin stripes from razor sharp claws. Shallow, but deep enough that they bled freely. He pushed himself off the floor, leaving a bloody handprint behind, and staggered towards Sigyn.

“Not without you,” he said, grabbing her by one arm and carefully guiding her to the exit, making sure to keep her summoned shield between them and the pursuing monsters. “Just keep...doing that,” he said, watching carefully as they went, one arm wrapped around his stomach as they shuffled towards the door.

Like so many times before, Sigyn was the one who thwarted the attacks inflicted on her husband - despite strange creatures lunging and snapping at them, she managed to channel that steely resolve and endurance into obtaining the desired goal. Which was getting out of here.

James didn’t think he could do that again, deflect much of anything, even if he tried and sprained his face in the attempt. Likely he’d just look constipated.

Still, in the human vessel, Sigyn couldn’t prevent every attack. Those dogs had sharp nails on their strange hands and they scraped up James quite a bit - not as bad as Loki, but she took her share of blows to bring them to safety. “You will be fine, Loki,” she clasped him firmly out of reassurance - but also to shove him out the door.

He went first, and she followed suit. Stumbling into the lobby.

And like the snapping of a rubber band, Loki was again pushed to the back of Nish’s mind, and in the disorientation from the switch she stumbled against the wall opposite the doors of the rec room. All at once the drunken dizziness and the pain from her wounds hit her like a ton of bricks and she slid down the wall, curling into herself and inspecting the damage. “Ohh, Loki,” she sighed when her hands came back covered in blood, dizziness now joining her other list of complaints. She looked up at Sigyn - now James - and noticed blood on his clothes too. “James...are you okay?” she asked, her voice sounding far away in her own ears, like they were full of cotton.

"I'm fine," he responded shortly - and let's just say James was not in the best of moods. He'd been at the Halloween party for five minutes before Nishka picked a fight with him, and of course she wouldn't make the decision to cool off elsewhere, she instead drank more of the punch and that made the guilt seep into him. He should have played nanny after all, but a part of him didn't think it was fair to expect that of him and then they'd nearly died and...couldn't he just have one night where shit didn't roll downhill?

His instinct to heal and live by his doctor's oath took over then. As irritated as he was with Nish, even if they had argued, he wouldn't let her bleed out on the floor. "Come on, upstairs. I'll take care of that. Keep pressure on the wound," he instructed, tearing off one of his white cuffs (the shirt was shoddily made anyway) and pressing it to her abdomen as a makeshift bandage. Then he scooped her up in his arms, heading for the lift.

He was taking care of her, and it made her feel like shit. Guilt twisted and sickened in the pit of her stomach combining with the alcohol and blood loss to make her feel nauseous. “I’m sorry,” she said when they were finally in the elevator, her cheek pressed against his shoulder and her hand pressed tightly against her stomach. “I’m so sorry James, I fucked it all up…” she moaned, the pain in her stomach and her heart bringing tears to her eyes.

James loved her, he did. He was completely serious about that - and it wasn't a love that would disappear in a puff of smoke because he got a little angry, but. Nishka was really difficult to love sometimes - and this was why.

"Just try to relax and breathe," he replied, tone gentler now. When they got to his flat, he laid her down on his bed and got to work stopping the bleeding and cleaning the wounds - they weren't too awful; the dog's claws or whatever they were hadn't punctured her, just scratched deeply. Thus, he got everything stabilised rather quickly. Once he had her properly bandaged, he found a folded t-shirt for her to put on and wear to bed. Sleep would do them good. He was anxious about actually falling asleep here, yes, considering Dracula apparently was pulling the puppet strings in this building - but his body was too exhausted, and it'd give in.

Now perhaps he could try a little self-care. "I'm going to go take a shower," he shared wearily. "I'll be right back." In his own pyjamas, and with water for the both of them - Nish especially needed an ocean of it, after the alcohol she’d consumed.

She did her best not to squirm or protest too loudly as he tended to her, hissing in pain a few times when he cleaned the wounds. All his tender care just made her tears flow faster, but now it wasn’t from physical pain. She watched him go, about to reach for him but thinking better of it at the last second. Her head was still a mess of drink and blood loss, but the shock had cleared it enough to realise what she’d done and hurtle headlong into remorse.

After lying there for a while and listening to the shower in the other room, she pulled herself up to sit, immediately regretting the decision when fire decided to burn its way across her stomach. She stifled a sob of pain and forced herself to stand, wobbling a little and then stumbling her way to a nearby table where she found a pen and some paper. She took a shaking breath and finally scribbled out ‘I should have known better. I’m sorry. N.’ and then left it on the coffee table, a faint bloody thumbprint on the bottom of the paper. Then she found the tattered remains of her dress, her shoes and her mask, awkwardly piling them in one arm and heading to the door.

Where Cheeto stopped her in her tracks, lying across it like a furry doorstop. She sighed heavily and all her strength went out of her. “Ohh, Cheeto,” she murmured, “let me go, I can’t be here when he gets out,” she reasoned, quickly becoming lightheaded again after so much time on her feet. “Ohh come on, can you just...great, I’m arguing with a cat now,” she sighed to herself, defeated, letting her stuff fall to the floor in a pile and slumping exhausted into a nearby chair.

The shower turned off, and James emerged a moment later - he’d treated his own cuts and bruises, and he felt every single one of them. They pounded with lethal accuracy beneath the purple splotches though it could have been a lot worse. Walking into a pile of attack dogs meant surely a human would be torn limb from limb, but - Sigyn had helped save them.

“Nishka?” he called, sounding confused, as he wandered dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants, into the dark kitchen to grab them both bottles of water. He thought he still heard her in the flat. She wouldn’t have left, would she? “Come to bed, love.” When he got into his room, he tipped his head back and drank all of that water in a few long gulps - to rehydrate - though he knew as soon as he hit the mattress he’d be out cold.

He pulled back the covers and though his eyelids felt like weights were attached to them, he’d try to stay awake until he was sure she’d joined him.

The several minutes sprawled in the chair with her eyes closed seemed to give her enough time to recover from her attempted flight. In that time, Cheeto had hopped up onto her lap, causing a lance of pain across her stomach when he landed, and then settled down against her, purring. She sat there idly stroking his fur until she heard James calling her from his bedroom. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes at the sound, remorse hitting her like another slash across her stomach. Even after everything, he wanted her to stay.

Cheeto heeded the call of his owner right away, leaping down from her thighs and trotting down the hall towards him. With a sigh, Nish carefully pushed herself up from the chair, a hand on her stomach keeping the bandage steady as she slowly padded down the hall after him.

She pushed the door open slowly, her face a puffy mess of emotion and guilt. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, loitering just inside the room, leaning against the doorframe. “I was...awful to you, and…” ’I couldn’t stop myself,’ she’d been about to say, but she forced herself to remember the many AA meetings she’d been to. Taking ownership of your actions was the first step towards reconciliation. “I should have...tried harder to resist that stupid punch. I should have followed you outside.” She couldn’t be mad at him for not stopping her drinking, she was mad at herself for that. “I’m sorry I ruined our evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry I went outside,” James apologised - and perhaps he shouldn’t have done that, but he just didn’t want to hear about how he was failing Nishka by working too much when he had only very recently gotten his job and was doing his best to excel at it. Working at the hospital, as an actual psychiatrist, really was important to him too; he wished she understood but he couldn’t make her do so. “Just come to bed and get some sleep - or actually, drink some water first,” he encouraged, setting the bottle on the nightstand. They could talk about his long work hours later, and he would listen. It wasn’t that he didn’t think her concerns were valid, but right now he was quite done with that conversation and only wanted to sleep the literal pain of this night away.

She nodded, stepping forward to take the water from him and sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. She drank half of it and then leant her head on his shoulder, silently letting her body adapt before downing the rest of it. She understood that he was done talking, and her exhaustion insisted that so was she.

She crawled into bed next to him, laying on her back so as not to cause any more trauma to her wounds, but turned her head so she could look at him next to her. Under the covers, she laced her hand with his, and then closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, the room still spinning from the alcohol, but feeling herself starting to mercifully drift off.

“Night, love,” James mumbled, giving her hand a faint squeeze. He fell asleep like that, and with Cheeto in his usual spot on the bed as well - it was the spot he’d claimed as his usual, and come morning likely James would wake up with that fat cat sitting on his head but no matter. It would actually be a welcome way to awaken in this death trap that was their building.