ŗęd-ђąŋdęd ʝįɭɭ (wmadarling) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-08-19 20:54:00 |
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Days usually didn’t begin like this for Wendy, but her memories of anything before the dawn were so far off. Everything was watery, all distorted like she was looking through a kaleidoscope. On a brand new day she felt strange - instead of a rush to the head, there was nothing inside of her, nothing but the idle want of a hatchet and a whole bunch of irritation. Usually she was all sweet teacakes, and today was no exception - it simply was that she was a bitter teacake that had misbehaved and contained too much sour. Instead of the sweet-smelling English rose she was moss scaling up the Tower of London, delighting in the skeletons and broken bones. She was suddenly...appalled at how messy her house was. In such disarray... Wendy would fix it. “I don’t understand why no one in this bloody house can just do what I say! And when I want things organised, why they can’t just bloody well stay that way!” The storm had brewed in a gentle simmer until all of a sudden it escalated, and very quickly. Because rather than cleaning, she had decided to just yank everything up and start from scratch. By jerking open drawers and tossing the contents, a British tornado cycloning through everything, flipping it upside down; she even decided the curtains were too dusty, and she didn’t like them, so down they came. Ripping and tearing, creating piles of rubbish and broken things, as Nana the dutiful nurse looked on in horror. Jack’s eardrums almost erupted at the sound of a certain lady’s shrieking - the kind of senseless screech that could come from fabled banshee with the potential of shattering windows and breaking glass. He’d been camping out in the kitchen, avoiding the disaster that was Hurricane Wendy while he stirred a strongly brewed Cup of Joe, lots of raw sugar and a dash of cream. He’d need this and more if he was going to have to listen to this. Casually, he emerged, leaning against the frame between living space and kitchen space, eyes rolled briefly. “Really? You’re going to bitch about a mess and then created a bigger mess?” Didn’t make sense, but the fuck ever, it was probably an English thing. “How about you calm down and stuff your face with chocolate, it usually makes you feel a fuckload better.” Katou had been expecting Wendy and Jack to maybe be a little sour about his disappearing act, but he definitely hadn't been expecting anything like this. Wendy was definitely taking the whole thing to such an extreme, to the point that she actually reminded him of his father (though at least Wendy didn't scare him at all), that Katou was pretty sure something was actually legitimately wrong. Katou left the guitar he'd been playing quietly on his bed, and wandered toward Jack and Wendy. "Jack's right, ya know," he said, shooting a slightly confused look Jack's way, because Jack probably wasn't helping much with that attitude. At least Katou had taken to carrying chocolate on him at all times to help with other cravings. "I got some Kisses here if you wanted to munch on those while I made some tea." The response to Jack’s suggestion that Wendy ‘stuff her face with chocolate’ was met with her tossing a vase at him. The one that she had almost used to brain the intruder with, when the house was broken into, but had gone for the rolling pin instead. And she didn’t care if the delicate glass shattered, which it did, the shards scattering on the wood floor and needing to be vacuumed so no one cut their bare foot (or paws) on it. Funnily enough, she didn’t care. “Fuck you!” screeched the British Banshee once more, and if that didn’t indicate something was wrong, nothing would. The amount of times Miss Darling had dropped the f-bomb, a person could count on one hand. “And fuck your disgusting Hershey’s kisses, Katou! I’d rather drink paint than eat revolting American-manufactured chocolate. Are you actually going to make tea, or is it time for dream death number sixty-seven?” What the-- That vase narrowly missed it and hit something else, thankfully, breaking and adding to the more mess that a) Wendy was bitching about and b) what she was actually creating. Talk about being really fucking counterproductive here. “Hey! Watch it! Neither of us have health insurance, you crazy bitch!” Christ, what the hell was lodged up her twat? Nothing good apparently. “C’mon, Katou,” he motioned over to the youngest of the three, taking his arm irritably after shooting Wendy a look, sharp like daggers, and it’d been a miracle he hadn’t spilled his coffee. Wouldn’t want her to cry about that mess, either. “She probably needs to get laid - we’ll give that pirate fuckboy a heads up so he can do us all a damn favor.” Katou’s mouth dropped open and he watched… whatever this was with a small sense of dread nestling in the pit of his stomach. Wendy had clearly lost it. She was swearing and throwing shit and… Jack was doing the opposite of helping. “Well, I’m not sleeping so dying doesn’t seem too likely,” Katou said. “Wait, am I sleeping? Because this would make a fuckton more sense if I was.” “Dude, I don’t think you’re helping,” Katou said, pulling his arm away from Jack. At least not with the name-calling, but maybe calling her little boyfriend wasn’t an awful. Unless she had gotten dumped, then it really was. One of Katou’s ex-girlfriends had thrown a toaster at him when he broke up with her, and while he hadn’t exactly taken Wendy as the crazy-bitch type, he supposed it was possible. Either way, he started heading toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make us all tea, yeah? And then we can all just settle the fuck down and stop throwing shit around.” “Well, whose fault is that, Jack? Maybe if you got a real job, like most normal and well-adjusted adults do, you’d suddenly find that you had health insurance!” Wendy snapped at him, and oh, she was angry. So angry! And angry at James too, he better not come around here. She’d punch him in his scruffy face if he did, that arrogant emo bastard. “Katou’s just a kid, granted, a kid who makes really bad decisions and...I don’t want any tea!” As if to make her point clear, she stomped through the broken glass shards on her high heels - crunch, crunch, crunch - and went straight into the kitchen to rummage for the mason jars of loose leaf tea that were kept in a cupboard, how she stored them. Very organised, colour-coded ribbons around the lids and everything, depending on the type. Then she just...smashed those too. Starting with the Earl Grey, which was normally her favourite, as a hellfire rose blossomed in her cheeks, her porcelain face red and raging. Though later she’d probably feel so guilty she would put Katou on her health insurance, but that was neither here nor there. For the moment though, she’d lost it and grabbed a kitchen knife that was probably too sharp for her to be wielding right now. “What would happen if I stabbed you in the throat, Jack? Hmmmmm? How horrible would it be, to pay for that out of pocket?” Ah, fuck. Alright, alright - Katou was right, he wasn’t helping, and reeling back he shouldn’t have said what he said. Wendy was technically one of his favorite people but today there was just something unbearable about her. Something annoying about Katou too, though Jack couldn’t put his finger on it. No time to fully contemplate all that bullshit though with Wendy’s insistence of staying in ultimate Bitch Mode, shoving past them and shattering all her his left and right. Didn’t make any sense to him - she worked hard on all that, bottled everything up precisely, so why the fuck was she - “Uh.” Jack blinked, eyes wide. Was Wendy seriously…?! “What the hell is your problem?! All you do is come around here and bitchbitchbitchBIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH -” Cue flailing arms and some of the coffee spilling. “About EVERYTHING, and you’re going to point a fucking knife at me??! Katou, she’s lost her shit!!” “Okay, no tea,” Katou muttered as Wendy started smashing shit, more to himself than anyone else. He had been ready to charge in there and physically try to stop Wendy from smashing her shit because no doubt when she stopped being a fucking psychopath she’d regret it, but then she pulled out a goddamn knife and he stopped in his tracks. “Jack, shut the fuck up,” Katou hissed at him. That was exactly the kind of attitude Katou took up when he was intentionally trying to start shit, and their first priority should really be trying to calm Wendy down so she didn’t do anything she’d actually regret. “Wendy, let’s put the knife down and uh… well, we’ll figure that out later,” he said, trying to use a more calming tone of voice as he slowly tried to ease his way toward her. Wendy, who had effectively lost her shit (it flew the coop, as the saying went), showed no signs of wanting to actually lose her grip on the weapon - danger ticked by, tick tick tick, every second closer to turning her pristine, quaint kitchen into a murder scene. “It’s about time I bitched about things, because you give me a fuck of a lot to bitch about!” Still screaming, still a pretty shade of red which was splashed all on ivory skin, rising to those cheeks - and the mad look in her eye, it wasn’t pretty bluebells, it was sharks circling ‘round and ‘round in stormy seas looking for blood. And she would spill it, come hell or high water. “Don’t you come near me!” she barked at Katou, and what was he going to do? Stick her with a heroin needle? “Both of you are awful!” Well, not really, but when you were being suffocated by the darkest of dark magic, that was all you saw. Attitude much? He almost decided to flip Katou off and stomp off and be done with it but for once, the youngest of the household was actually the voice of reason and there was a part of him, deep down and not so touched by rage, that knew this wasn’t Wendy. Wendy wouldn’t do this. Didn’t stop her from being annoying as hell, either. But the facts were this: Wendy was the one going insane with a knife in her hand, Jack was standing with a mug of mostly hot coffee, and what he did next seemed to make some sort of mathematical sense at the time. Jack chucked the coffee cup at Wendy’s head and just hoped to whatever fucking deity that took pity of them, it’d conk her good. Wendy screaming at him to stay back didn’t stop Katou from attempting to at least inch forward a little more. He just needed to get close enough to grab the knife (by the blade, if he had to. He had a biomechanical arm now after all), and really, getting stabbed by some dinky kitchen knife from his roommate who, under normal circumstances, was pretty harmless really didn’t seem that scary given his Dreams. He’d been so focused on Wendy that he didn’t even notice the cup of coffee until it was already sailing past him toward Wendy, and watched it’s progression, open mouthed, before turning to Jack. What the fuck was wrong with everyone today? How was he the only person in this damn house who was trying to keep the peace. Coffee?? Did he just fling a mug of....??! “You asshole,” Wendy snarled, and oh, that mug made contact. She put her arms up just in time, knife still in hand, but the hot liquid splashed all over her and the actual mug shattered on the kitchen floor. Now she was even more agitated, pristine delicate skin bruised from having a projectile lobbed at her, and also burned - but that didn’t stop her from lunging at Jack anyway, and she was definitely going to stab him. She dodged past Katou, or tried to, and went for Jack, all Psycho-shower scene, and it wasn’t as if she had ever stabbed anyone before but she simply assumed that you pierced flesh with the blade and kept doing it until the victim finally stopped talking. He’d fight her off, the stubborn git, but she was so completely done with being so bloody nice all the time. If Jack didn’t have the strength to take on Wendy, well, then oh shit for him but lucky for him that, for one, he was bigger. And two, braced himself from the rabid onslaught of an armed woman. Generally by just grabbing her wrists and making sure that knife wouldn’t sink it’s blade in, and awkwardly (and angrily, because fuck you, Wendy) struggled with wrestling her. Because he actually didn’t want to hurt her, not like that - maybe enough to keep her from committing murder but nothing serious. “I was trying to knock her out, you idiot,” he snarled, this time at Katou’s general direction while he continued to manhandle their British mother hen. “And while I’ve got her - you should probably try something yourself! Because I don’t think she’s not going to just stop wanting to kill us! Or me, whoever the fuck she’s mad at right now!” Katou swore when Wendy actually started attacking Jack, and he jumped into the fray, arms hooked under Wendy’s armpits to pull her off of Jack. He’d been expecting Wendy to go after Jack after he threw the mug, but he had been hoping she’d have at least enough sense to drop the knife on her way over. “What, you get that idea from a fucking cartoon? You can’t actually knock someone out by throwing a cup of coffee at them. You know that, right?” “Get off me!” Wendy screeched, twisting and thrashing - actually, both boys were probably bigger than her, which was sad, but she was a tiny wisp of a thing actually not accustomed to fighting anyone. She didn’t know how, except for the few tricks of self-defence that Cora taught her before she moved away, and then some from Buffy. The knife was dropped, and the weapon clattered uselessly to the floor. But she managed to whack Jack in the face, heel of her hand thrusting upward - she hoped she broke his nose, the shithead! There was a gush of blood, that was all she knew, and it was like feeding the beast that had taken residence within her. Then Katou pulled her off and she went for him next, shrieking and scratching - somewhat out of actual tactics to use, so she just began clawing at him with her nails instead, accompanied by flailing limbs and hard jabs with bony elbows. “Both of you are awful! You’re attacking me for no reason!” Right, no reason at all, whatsoever. Completely lucid. Jack would have absolutely loved to have spat something back at Katou, if his nose wasn’t bleeding. Wendy was small but anger and adrenaline did numbers when it came to impulsive strength and both his hands went to cup his faucet-blood nose, a vehement string of fuuuuuuucks muffled. Okay, yeah, this wasn’t flying anymore. “We’re locking her up,” was his decision after the initial shock (which wore off quick out of necessity) diminished, and he made a gesture to open the walk-in closet in the hallway with all kinds of weird miscellaneous things - bullshit craft stuff, spare blankets, an assortment of boxes. An enclosed room with a window she couldn’t crawl out of and come back at them again. “Get her in here!” He barked, because what other choice was there? Hot red blood had spilled down his mouth, neck and shirt, and he had officially had enough. Katou was more concerned with keeping Wendy restrained that fending off her attacks, but he kind of wished he had more arms. "Cut that out, you psychotic bitch," Katou snapped. He was frankly impressed with himself that he had enough patience to attempt to keep the peace for as long as he had. And when she hit him with a swipe across the face, something that probably would have drawn more blood than it did had he been in his old body, he realized that he really had to do something. "You'll thank me for this later," Katou muttered before driving his fist into her solar plexus, a handy trick Kira had taught him first hand when his dream buddy went off to die. He pulled his punch by a lot - he wanted to knock the wind out of her, not injure her, and hoisted her onto his shoulder fireman style. "You got any idea what the fuck got into her?" he asked Jack. Wendy let out another shriek, more like a wail, but when she was punched (chivalry was dead with Katou, apparently) she was effectively down and out. It was difficult to breathe, so she just made these pathetic gasping sounds, dazed, and able to easily be hoisted up without much of a protest. Distinctly, she heard lock her up but it wasn't as if she had the energy or the will to protest, what with figurative cartoon birds circling her head. Cheque, please. Door slammed shut, finally, trapping one rabid woman for the time being but they couldn’t keep her in there forever, not humanely. Jack pressed his back against the door, wiping his nose the best he could but it all smeared across his face more. It looked a lot worse than it was, on the bright side. “No fucking clue,” he grumbled, done with today. Done with Wendy, even done with Katou and his snide commentary. Fuck this place, fuck everything. “This place is probably making us lose our shit, so I’m thinking this isn’t permanent, but I’m over it. I’m gonna get a drink, you all can go fuck yourselves.” Katou’d been about to ask if Jack was alright, maybe see if he could go find some tissues for the man, but then Jack opened his mouth and Katou figured that he’d be fine. “Right. Us,” Katou muttered to himself. Wendy was crazy, Jack was being a jerk, and Katou was fairly confused but suspected Jack was probably right about that. “Well, have fun or whatever. Guess I’ll babysit,” he said a little louder at Jack. And probably clean up the glass before Nana cut herself. Though if everyone else was losing their shit there was zero reason he couldn’t smoke in the house first. |