fabian is a feminist (godfabbit) wrote in reoccurrence, @ 2020-08-23 19:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | prewett fabian, prewett gideon |
WHO. the brothers Prewett
WHAT. ghost jail reunion
WHERE. RRC
WHEN. evening of 21st August, 2005
WARNINGS. TBD but probably not
Fabian had refused treatment on the split lip he'd gained in his sister's family room earlier today - he didn't care if it was only an episkey, he was going to need you to drop the subject - having passed out cold at the sight of her suddenly much older and looking far more like their mother than he could have imagined. He'd accepted from Molly something to staunch the bleeding, but some minor injury like this wasn't going to take priority over trying to set in order everything he'd been told in the last number of hours from her and the RMT staff alike. One to usually thrive when situations became questionable, now there was only some weird weight on his chest that seemed bulkier with each bit he'd learned about what had happened since he died. It wasn't as if there'd been nothing but bad news - though plenty had found its way into the snippets shared regardless, and yet he couldn't put to words how off and surreal everything seemed (even though he honestly did try for his sister's benefit). Some of the heaviness had lifted upon hearing that Gideon was back as well, even if Fabian's mind couldn't rightfully align itself against the thought that meant Gideon had also been murdered. Anxiety-inducing intrusive thoughts when already stressed wasn't some brand new phenomena to deal with in itself, but could said thoughts still be classified as intrusive when the only ones running through your head revolved around the death, destruction, and/or devastation of practically everyone you'd ever known? Not for lack of trying, at that, but these were the truths that had indeed played out in the past twenty four-odd years.
His mind hadn't cleared or slowed by now, as Fabian made his way towards the room he'd been directed in attempting to locate his brother. If anything you could add a layer of aggravation between the eyes he could feel on his back, that so many of his questions had been avoided or answered with only a thin smile, and really he'd like nothing more than to sprawl out in some grassy space and stare at the familiar stars that were ever changing as the seasons, yet still steadfast in whatever tangibility they held. Instead of feeling grounded as he moved to that doorway, there was the notion you had to choose your footing with careful precision lest everything fall apart at the seams. More than usual, that is.
Among the many he'd developed through the years, there had never been a contingency plan for greeting people once you came back from the dead. Somehow that simply didn't seem like a possibility, and still it wouldn't have helped when bringing the effervescent variable that was Gideon into the equation. With no script, Fabian had figured some sort of actual greeting would do, and yet that went right out the window upon seeing a scene pulled straight from his childhood if a gemino curse had gotten hold of it; because the day wasn't odd enough... There had to be thousands of puzzle pieces spread across the floor and surrounding bits of the room, in the middle orchestrating this insanity was none other than his brother hunched over methodically fixing pieces into each other like it had become his sole goal in life. It wasn't hard to guess how a cooped up Gideon could lead to such a display, and yet his voice sounded more confused than anything with that single word: "Gid?"