ghostharasser | Open Post

[Yes. It’s getting harder and harder for Mason to continue compartmentalizing everything that’s threatening to broil out of him. Keeping th tight lid on his fraying nerves is only going to happen for so long, now when they’re both looking at the hard truth.]

[Mason’s hands shake for a moment, but he shakes his head, pulling his coat back a little for Stanley to see. The rip in his clothing is big enough that the scarred skin is visible. He’s healed, somehow or another.]

I’m fine.

[He shakes his head, tries to offer him a smile but ultimately just swallows it back down. They had siblings to find, then Mason could fall to pieces over how much he’s fucked up. If they’re all dead, then their blood is on his hands, and he can’t run from it forever.]

Let’s keep an eye out for clothing, too. The smell of blood might attract something.

[Mason's fine. Stanley's fine. They're both fine. No one's going to fall to pieces right this second, so Stanley takes it at face value. He won't push if Mason doesn't.

The clothing thing is a good point though. It had gotten him a couple of pity points when he was out earlier, but generally walking around covered in blood is just asking for something to smell it and come try and rip your insides out. They need clean clothes.

Stanley gestures for Mason to hold out his hand, and when he does he'll pour about half of his bag of caps into his palm. It's not much and he didn't exactly count out an amount, but it might be enough for him to get something to wear. And hey, if that doesn't work Stanley can always steal him something.]

[Everything’s fine. They just need to keep moving and everything will be fine. Keeping moving is what kept them alive until it didn’t, after all.]

[Mason startles a little when Stanley pours the caps into his hands like that. He almost doesn’t want to take them. Stanley earned them, even though they’ve always shared everything up until now. Ah, the guilt is going to eat him alive at this point.]

[He takes them in the end, giving him a grateful smile. He can’t falter now, not when they still have to find the others. The guilt can destroy him later, but right now Stanley needs him to keep his shit together.]

Let’s meet up back here when the sun sets.

[Too bad, Mason. Stanley isn't going to take no for an answer and it shows all over his face. It isn't until Mason accepts it and offers a smile that Stanley eases.

He nods, and holds up a hand so they can deal the deal with a high-six - or, a rare high five, since Ford hasn't been found yet. They've got this. They can do this!!!]

[They can't do this. Or at least, Stanley can't do this.

Stan headed more toward the east, getting himself a new outfit at the East Street Bazaar before trying to find places Ford or Mabel would be getting their noses into. There was a general store with craft supplies, but no sign of Mabel there. He did pick up a green leather-bound notebook and pens after challenging the tough lady working there to arm wrestling to lower the price - he lost and she didn't, but she said she liked his moxie. He also came across a forge and some kinda old timey pharmacy, which were both great things to keep in the back of his head, but his feet carried him to the one place he was sure Ford would have made it to - the Docks. The place is pretty abandoned though, and after a couple hours of searching and throwing rocks in the water and feeling sorry for himself, he has to admit this might've been wishful thinking. Maybe it's just where he hoped Ford would be.

He gets back to the Tavern first, leaning against the wall outside with his arms crossed like some punk, face half-hidden in his hood, but he's really just feeling pretty lousy about failing to find anyone. But hey, maybe Mason had better luck?]

[This is rough, and Mason feels like he is low-key-high-key standing at the edge of a panic attack the entire time. Being around people and expecting hostility from locals and then not getting it, looking around for any signs of the others and finding nothing, feeling lost in a place he doesn’t know after spending [???????] years in the same town and knowing it inside and out. Everything about this has him deeply overstimulated.]

[But he does manage to find clothes, and …throwing out that old coat was a lot harder than he expected it to be. As Wastes, they simply did not own things, just the clothing on their backs. To lay that to rest…]

[He can’t think about this now. He takes to the south and west, passing through the SEAMEN Research center looking for Ford specifically, but more or less checking every shop he can find for Mabel. She would be anywhere and everywhere, honestly. Both the kids would.]

[As the sun sets, Mason trudges in late, empty handed. Feet like lead. Did the sun get to him? Is he just tired…? He thinks he sees Stanley, just a little more-]

[Mason drops to the ground about ten feet away from Stanley.]

[Stanley spots Mason, and he's about to wave at him when the guy just. Drops half-dead to the dirt in front of him. The pity party is instantly over and Stanley rushes to his side.

At first he just gives Mason's shoulder a couple of rough shakes, but maybe that's not enough. This is important, maybe even life or death, so he doesn't hesitate to call out to him--]

M^as_on!

[He hates his stupid cracking out-of-practice voice, but making sure Mason is okay is more important. He does checks that feel almost routine now - is there a heartbeat? Is he breathing? Is there a wound to tend to?]

[He is pale and sweating, and looks like he’s been out in the heat a little too long. Otherwise he isn’t wounded, and he’s breathing but just a little shallower.]

[It takes a few rough shakes to stir him, but what really finally brings him around is …]

Snnrk-!

[After all that time of having his voice be made fun of, finally his comeuppance…]

[WOW, FUCK YOU TOO, MASON.

Stanley is red-faced with embarrassment and drops him maybe a little more roughly than he should given the circumstances, but if he's alive enough to laugh at him then he's probably going to be fine. ...Probably

Still, Mason's got to get out of the sun. Stanley gets behind him and scoops him up under the arms, and shifts him a little until he has a good grip on him, and then lugs his dead weight into the tavern. This time he nudges Mason into a booth so he doesn't have to balance at a bar stool and can rest his head on the table if he needs to.

Soon, Stanley is nudging a tall glass of water against the side of Mason's face like it's an ice pack. He's gotten them a big pitcher from the bartender, which makes this the least they've had to worry about water in a long time.]

Oof! haha- sorry, I’m sorry…!

[He sounds pretty weak and he is literally dead weight as Stanley drags his sorry ass inside. He takes his place with his face on the table, groggily reaching for the glass so he can continue holding it to his face.]

…s’too hot out here, Stanley.

[Once a Californian…]

Didn’t have any luck.

[Really, Stanley shouldn't be doing much better. New Jersey isn't exactly known for oppressive heat after all, but a lot of the places he looked were indoors or by water.

He mutters something in the affirmative - not a whisper, but more of a mumble than a "yeah it's too damn hot here". He's still a little embarrassed, but at least he got something to help continue avoiding the problem.

After a second of scribbling, he pushes his open notebook under Mason's nose. Maybe it'll be easier than charades while he's feeling like shit.]

ME EITHER

BIG DESERT

LOCALS SAID ITLL GET COLD AT NIGHT

[The unspoken part being that, if they stay here and rest long enough for Mason to get his bearings, the temperature will drop and it won't be so oppressive out.]

Edited 2024-08-12 05:43 (UTC)

[Oh?? He startles a little at the notebook sliding towards him enough that he finally properly lifts his head to look. He takes a sip of water.]

That makes sense.

[That was a desert thing, right? He's pretty sure he remembers hearing about that in the past. When he was the kind of person to just read shit like geography books for fun. It is a relief, though.]

I've been eavesdropping a little on the locals. It sounds like ...people showing up here displaced isn't all that strange. [Like Deerington, he doesn't say, but he's sure they're both thinking it.] We should keep looking, but there's a chance they just haven't gotten here yet. There's also word of housing up for grabs in a place called the Daybreak District. I think we should check it out later.

[Stanley's thinking of Deerington, but he's thinking of more than just that. He bites at his lower lip, and takes the notebook again.]

THINK EVERYONE HERE'S "DISPLACED" LIKE US?

[And in case that was somehow too subtle, he doodles a little skull and crossbones and effectively says the quiet part out loud...sort of. As "out loud" as Stanley gets these days. Then, like he never brought up the elephant in the room:]

I WOKE UP NEAR THERE. LOOKED PRETTY SECURE? THEY'RE BIG METAL SHIPPING BINS.

[Of course they'll have to check it out more closely themselves, but a solid metal structure will keep out whatever creatures live here at least, and give them a safe place to sleep.]

[He sees what Stanley's putting down and it makes him fall quiet for a moment.]

[This is really the elephant in the room, huh? The thing he was trying really hard not to think about. The thing he was clinging to denial on. If he died then he had it coming, but the Stans...]

[He sucks in a breath and then ...reaches for the notebook. It's cowardly, but he knows if he tries talking he won't keep it together.]

In the end both of you died, too, huh.

[He taps the pen a moment, then swallows, forcing himself to keep writing.]

I'm such damned fool, if I had just listened to Mabel from the start none of this would have happened. I got my entire family killed...

[He drops the pen and covers his face.]

[Stanley's a little surprised that Mason takes the paper, and doesn't fully grasp why he's choosing to write. Maybe he doesn't want anyone to overhear? But then Stanley reads it and...oh.

Oh.

He gives Mason a second to gather himself, though mostly it's because he's not sure what to say or do at first either. Right away he's waving both both hands and shaking his head, but that isn't really doing much when Mason won't even look at him.

So instead of immediately writing, he shuts his green leather journal and thwacks Mason on the head with it. Not hard of course - the thing is home made and the cover is on the softer side anyway - but hopefully enough to knock just a little sense into him. It's only then that he scribbles more--]

ME AND FORD DIDN'T LISTEN TO HER EITHER YKNOW AND YOURE THE REASON IT DIDN'T HAPPEN EVEN SOONER SO CUT IT OUT!!!!

[He pauses, debating if he wants to keep going. But...he probably should, so that Mason quits blaming himself for things that aren't his fault.]

I LOST FORD. DUNNO IF HE MADE IT.

HE LET GO OF ME AND I COULDN'T SEE HIM. THAT'S NOT ON YOU.

[It's uncomfortable to admit though. He still slides the notebook to Mason, but he shuts it first this time and suddenly seems extremely invested in his own glass of water and swirling it to make the ice cubes knock into each other.]

[The bonk is what's most effective here. He is utterly concentrated on not dissolving into hysterics right now, absolutely wrecked with the grief of having to admit that "out loud". Of making it all the more concrete and sure in his mind than it was before. If he'd listened to Mabel, they would have been taken in by the other Pines.]

[None of them would have had to die. Mabel wouldn't have had to die.]

[So the sound he makes is awful when Stanley bonks him, and he looks up eyes red and glossy from trying to hold it in. He sobers somewhat while he waits. Is Stanley going to agree with him? Is this maybe where they part ways, because it's just too much-]

...

[Somehow that's even worse. That Stanley doesn't blame him. That he has this much trust in him and he's really just a huge fuck-up. His shoulders drop in a much more tired way, suddenly losing the energy to be truly anguished. His expression turns miserable and contrite. While Ford's situation is more ambiguous it does mean he's either alone now, or he died later on. With how dangerous it had been ...he hopes maybe he was the smartest of them all and went to the Other Pines.]

...She was dead before I could even reach her. I couldn't bring her back, Stanley. She died angry because I was a stubborn, useless idiot.

Edited 2024-08-13 09:08 (UTC)

[The heartbreak is clear on Stanley's face, the confirmation that Mabel is definitely dead hurts like a shot to the chest. It hurts like dying hurt, but he tries to reel it in a little for Mason. He looks Mason in the eye and shakes his head as firmly as he can. Points at Mason, then makes an X with his hands. "No, you're not."]

CMON ITS MABEL. SHE WOULDNT STAY MAD. SHE'D CALL YOU A DUMDUM ONCE AND MOVE ON, THATS JUST HOW SHE IS.

THATS HOW ITLL BE WHEN WE FIND HER

[He looks at the message, and then decides to underline WHEN aggressively before giving the journal to Mason.]

Edited 2024-08-13 23:34 (UTC)

[It feels selfish to be relieved that Stanley doesn't actually agree with him. That he's still arguing against him when he clearly thinks he should have some kind of justice for this whole mess.]

[His words to strike a chord, though. He can't hope that he's right, because that would be some insanely wishful thinking. Mabel has every write to sock the shit out of him, and he'd let her, but ...]

[But he can have hope that they'll find her, if nothing else. Much like a certain Great Uncle of his hoped for 30 years to see his brother again, regardless of how angry or upset he might be when he got back.]

...Alright. You're right. We'll find her, so I can apologize to her, if nothing else.

[He pulls himself back together with a deep breath, scrubbing at his face.]

Sorry, I'm better now. Thank you.

[That seems like enough of an answer for Stanley. Even though Mason is agreeing with him, he still nods like he's the one taking an order coming from the top. They're going to find her, and Ford, and they can both apologize.

He gives a thumbs up at Mason, since he does seem like he's physically doing better. But instead of moving to get up and immediately get going, he takes the full pitcher of water and tops off Mason's glass. They do need to find the kids, but he's not entirely convinced less than a cup of water is enough to help keep him from collapsing again. Instead of being sentimental about it though, he lays it out in hard fact:]

YOU HIT THE GROUND HARD

HUNGRY?

[While Mason considers that, Stanley takes the journal back and doodles a little cartoon Mason faceplanting up by the first sentence. If he's being honest, he kind of missed doodling...there weren't exactly opportunities for it in Deerington.]

[It's second nature to put that face of his back on. The one that's supposed to be what the others are looking up to. If Mason spends too long falling apart, then the others will start to worry and doubt. If they can't look to him as some kind of rock, if he isn't the one leading by example, then who even is he supposed to be?]

[So, despite all of that just now, he straightens back up and manages to school himself back to normal. He does take the glass of water with a nod, and starts to chug it down. Stanley has a point no matter how you look at it.]

I haven't eaten, if that's what you mean.

[Lol feeling hunger when you're used to stretching food out as long as possible and going without so the others are fed.]

[That is, in fact, what Stanley means. He can't really judge though - he hasn't eaten yet either, so it's just as much for him as it is for Mason. Besides, he's gotten to know Mason pretty well after however long they've been Wastes. There's no way he'd eat if he thought Stanley was going hungry to make it happen.

He holds up a finger, a classic "wait here a sec" and heads back up to the bar. Truly eavesdropping is difficult when one half of the conversation doesn't talk out loud, but it probably looks interesting from a distance with Stanley's various gestures. He left the journal at the table, wide open to the the doodle of Mason faceplanting. If Mason gets nosy, he'll find most of the notes Stanley's taken so far have been where to get money and food in town, because of course they are. They're rough and unfinished, all jotted out in the moment without making a nice-looking journal entry about it.

Stanley's only gone about five minutes and he comes back with a basket of lots of round flat-ish bread. He jerks a thumb towards the guy at the bar and then motions like he's stirring a pot - there's more than just bread coming; he ordered actual food from the kitchen. He takes a piece of bread of himself and then casually pushes the basket towards Mason.]

[Very astute, that is exactly the case. Mason would 100% wait before he sees Stanley eating before he even thought about doing the same. He has just always been like that! Mabel can sometimes wrangle him, but guess who isn't here!]

[He lets Stanley run off, though, more curious to see what he's up to. While he can't really hear the bartender, he does know the way Stanley communicates with his hands and he watches to see if he's actually able to order. If not and the bartender gets weird about it, he's prepared to stand up and settle things, but he's glad to see he doesn't have to.]

[Oh, yeah, he does also peek in the book. Not for very long, because he doesn't want to get caught, but he does flip through to see what he's been up to. Always so hardworking...]

[He closes it when Stanley starts to head back, sitting up with a smile.]

Looks like Stanley-Sign is universal after all.

[teasing aside, he will take a piece of bread and start to eat.]

[Damn holy SHIT this tastes good. Is this what warm, fresh fucking food is like? It's been so long.]

[Stanley swells with pride and grins, taking that as a huge compliment. He's never learned to actually sign (never needed to - his family gets what he means, and they would have had to learn it anyway, so why not just make up movements they all understand?) but so far he's only run into a few situations he couldn't gesture his way out of. It helps that the locals don't hate them for stupid reasons and that he won't get chased out of a store if he waves his hands in a way someone doesn't like.

After he sees Mason's reaction to the bread he has to try it himself and-- holy mackerel that is the best goddamn thing he's put in his mouth in a long time. It's warm and fluffy and even if there wasn't more coming this would feel like enough. It's already more than they had to go around, some days.

Despite the religious bread experience, there's still a part of Stanley on alert under the surface. Fortunately, all that means for now is that when he sees the bartender head back to the kitchen out of the corner of his eye he pays attention and waits for him to come back out. ...And he comes back out with a large clay pot with steam coming out the top and Stanley quickly gestures to Mason look look that's gotta be it!

Sure enough, it's delivered to their table and the bartender lifts the cover to reveal a thick stew made with meat and vegetables and warm spices, a meal unlike anything either of them have seen in the last several years. It's just one pot to share between the two of them, but it feels luxurious somehow.

The bartender briefly explains how it's eaten, using the bread to scoop it, and then heads back behind the bar and leaves them be. Stanley is still staring in awe for a moment after the guy leaves.

Wow. They really DID die, huh.]

[He's in fucking awe, honestly. He hasn't seen food this good in like....ever?? EVER?? It smells incredible, it's hot, even from here, and it's theirs? No one is going to try and take it from them?? Probably?]

Holy Paul Bunyan, Stanley.

[Ah, but, if they linger it will get cold. Or maybe something will come and ruin this for them. He reaches forward with his bread to try a bite, scooping up some of the meat and vegetables and just slamming it into his mouth.]

[It's very hot. He has some regrets but also not really. It tastes really good.]

[When Mason goes in for a bite, Stanley instinctively looks around them. It's a hard habit to shake when he and his loved ones have gone hungry before. But, there's no need to double or triple check for danger. There's none - it's just a regular tavern, slowly gaining more customers for dinner.

So he gives in and tries some himself, scooping a little bit of everything with his bread and going for it. And honestly? He can't remember the last time he ate something this good. He's not sure he's ever eaten anything this good. If he has it was two lifetimes ago, before everything went to shit the first time.

It's so good his voice slips out around the bite.]

^HolY--!

[His eyes are even watering a little and not from the heat. Before anyone can comment on it though, he aggressively blinks them back and goes in for more. They might be cagey and overly cautious, and exhausted and half-starved, but they're having their first real meal in who knows how long?]

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