Repose

Who: Harry Ryan
What: A reveal, if you look even a little bit close
Where: Harry's apartment, then mystery locale
When: Morning after party ends


Harry couldn't remember how he'd gotten home, but that wasn't anything new for Harry when it came to parties. That wasn't anything new for Harry on a run of the mill Monday morning. He was beyond fucked up, and that too, wasn't anything new. None of this was new, you understand, that is why he wasn't worried. This wasn't the first time that he'd woken up on the floor beside his bed, floral sheets tangled around his head, the taste of stomach acid and too much liquor on his tongue. This wasn't even the first time that he'd woken up bleeding, but by the time he pulled the sheet off of his eyes, everything looked way too red for it be normal. This wasn't a skateboarding injury or late night fuck-the-world cutting aftermath. This shit was deep, and the sheet was stuck to him like glue in places where the wounds were already trying to dry.

He couldn't move his neck, he couldn't even hardly lift his hands to rub the sleaze drag of sleep out of his eyes. His palms scrambled for pills on his nightstand, pain pills benzos, muscle relaxers, whatever... but they weren't there. He must have already taken them, there was a beer bottle beside the bed and its label was streaked in blood, but he didn't remember drinking that either, and he didn't think that he felt drunk. He wasn't sure that he was feeling much of anything beside the cold.

He sniffled, trying to find his phone in the sheets he'd become tornadoed with. There were fishnet stockings in the twist, and he didn't know where those came from either, although the size 11 platform heels in the corner might have been able to jog his memory.

He had a cotton tee shirt on vintage Ramones, mostly white, bought way for too much money off of Ebay(and potentially not even legit, but that wasn't the biggest issue right now!) The white was soaked through in blood, it clung red to his sparrow chest and even trying to get off of the floor made his skin tear all over again.

"What the fucking corndog hell..." It wasn't shouted, but groaned into a fistful of sheets while Harry continued to try and find his footing, or at least his kneecaps. None of the lights were on in the apartment, not even the glittery Christmas lights strung over his bed, and it was all kinds of disorienting to be getting a degree of light directly from the small window above the arcade.

His phone was blinking from between his knees, and Harry tried to read the names, numbers, or texts but he couldn't. His vision was too blurry, and he rolled onto his back against the ice cold floor of his apartment. The combination of pills and blood loss and who knows what else that left Harry spinning from the floor. He felt sick, cold, dizzy. Symptoms of blood loss or overdose, he didn't know, he couldn't even tell how bad his wounds were because blood was literally everywhere. It was all over his bed and his bedding and his body, and he might have thrown up if his stomach hadn't been so desperate to hold onto the last of the hydration it was due.

Phone in his hand, and permed wig lost somewhere in the background, Harry squinted one eye to discern his recent calls. Weird, there was one from his dad. He didn't remember that. Harry's vision went useless blur again, and he squint-mashed at a couple of keys until his phone started to ring. He really had no idea who he was calling.

[And following this, theres some phone ringing.]

[Post party-ness]

Not be busy, please.

[[group lock: gwen r, louis d, sam a, daniel w]

roll call, please. injuries, bodily or mental now please and thank you.

[mean-eyed cat crew]

all okay?

[seven m]

all right, trouble?

[public]

you would have taken somebody up on abdication if there'd been a chance. did you find your drink in the end?

Who: Sherwood, open to Challenge Excepted
What: Reveals~

( Awkward doesn't cover it )

[Public: anon]

[Post shower, clothes and a strong cup of tea]

Goldfish girl. Did you make it back all right?

[Louis D]

Christ. I thought the lights just went out, not that you were materially altered. Did you come through it?

[Cat C]

Your lights are out. Shitty night?

Blue in the hay.

Snakes in the kitchen.

We didn't even get to enjoy our cigarettes together.

[Locked to Jason W]
Hey, killer.

[Locked to Cat C]
Cat?

[Locked to Gwen R]
Gwendy, I know you're meeting with Flash, but I just wanted to see how it went for you.

ETA: [Locked to Matt D]
Matt, Cat's busy, so she wants you to open the store. She says she's fine, but doesn't want you to interrupt, so she'll let you know when she's around. She also said she'd shoot you, if you still tried. Um, maybe see if Jude or Claire wants to work. I have to see a friend.

Sherlock? Did you make it safely home?

[Jeze]
Alright then?


[Destiny & Billy]
I think I got the names right, yes?

I'll try not to ask too much next time.

[Harry R: call

Ring

Who: Fabulous and Gilded
What: The sun's comin' up.
Where: Picnic tables
When: After the party
Warnings/Rating: TBD

( The sun and a rainbow )

[Spidey Kids]

Hey, so Harry called me this morning and he sounded like he was in pretty bad shape. While we were on the phone, someone showed up at his place and took him. Gwen and I checked it out and it looks like a professional job, no dealer shit. His dad called him the night before, so we think it's possible it has something to do with him.

The good news is that I think his dad probably saved his fucking life. We found a shit ton of blood on the scene and IDK how much longer he had if that was his (Gwen can you confirm?). The bad news is who knows what the fuck will happen to him now. We gotta get him out or at least see where he's at.

Ideas? I gotta- my sister's in the fucking ER so I can't do shit right now, but once I make sure she's okay I'll do whatever I can.

You had knives. Tried to do the right thing. I'm sorry.

[Atticus finds the girl in the middle of the day. Clean-up crews have come in from the Capital, and all the scenes in the maze are being torn down. He's out checking the grounds when he notices the uneven soil, and he dials 911 as soon as he realizes there's a body in the shallow grave. The girl looks rough, and the air around Atticus goes immediately frigid. If he has a heated conversation with his haunts just then, well, at least no one's around to see it. He doesn't move the girl, but he tries to brush the dirt away from her face without touching her mangled eye. She's barely concious, and what Atticus can see of her looks bloody, but he crouches there and tries to make soothing sounds. He's not very good at this kind of thing, so he opts for reading her nonsense from one of the vintage letters in his pocket. It's an old letter about how someone's son has gone off to war. Atticus suspects it doesn't have a happy ending, so he sticks to reading the bits about life and love. When the ambulance arrives, Atticus collects the phone left in the shallow grave. He starts paging through contacts and recent calls, looking for a number.]

[Call to "Lip"]
[From the girl's phone. Ring.]