tushanshu_logs | Phantom faces at the window, phantom shadows on the floor

Characters: (CLOSED) Skulduggery Pleasant, Erskine Ravel, Anton Shudder, and the fourth-wall Dead Men.
Date: April 15-30.
Location: Throughout Keeliai, but mostly in Erskine's new Earth Sector shelter.
Situation: The Dead Men haven't created something lasting together in a very long time. It's led to some spectacularly stupid decisions. This? This is their chance to fix things.
Warnings/Rating: Intimacy / non-serious flirting between grown men, some jokes of a sexual nature, massive spoilers for the entire Skulduggery Pleasant series (but notably the last two books), mentions of murder and betrayal, gratuitous amounts of violence and punching in response to said mentions of murder and betrayal (the Dead Men actually communicate by punching each other in the face). Also, broship. Lots of broship.

With Erskine and Skulduggery's relationship somehow even more strained than it was before Skulduggery vanished for a month, and Erskine growing maybe a little too dependent on Anton while living at the Hotel, the Dreaming's been getting a lot of wishes -- subconscious or otherwise -- for the arrival of very specific people.

They arrive on the 15th, scattered around the turtle. Over the day, they find each other, two or three at a time. There are hugs. There are punches. And when they all come together, they spend most of the following two weeks helping Erskine build and prepare a shelter for the kedan -- in between needing subtle reminders that the point of the reunion is to forgive each other.

Or, if not forgive, at least accept each other, flaws and all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Rover tenses up all at once -- so badly he stops breathing.

No, he wants to say. No, that's not right. That can't be right. One of us is supposed to survive. One of us is always supposed to survive.

But without adequate breathing, Rover can't form words, and with his shoulders shaking it's probably a bad idea to try anyway. He hugs Dex harder, swallows several times, quells the questions running through his head -- who what when where why -- and asks the most relevant one first. "How?"

'How', in a manner of speaking, is almost easier than any of the rest. 'How' doesn't include having to explain the lead-up, how the Dead Men had gotten so broken that Dex hadn't had backup.

"Got Remnanted," he mumbles some more, still into Rover's shoulder. He realises distantly that he's probably wetting Rover's shirt. "True-named bitch--scuse me--" 'Bitch' is not a nice word, especially not for Skulduggery's partner. "--reached down my throat and yanked it out. Didn't bother to stop it from grabbing at everything along the way."

It hadn't even hit his top 100 probable ways to die, though by the end he'd been so badly injured that at least the pain had barely been an issue.

Remnanted.

If Rover tensed up before, he's stiff as a plank now -- and not in the fun way. He has to remind himself to breathe again. Anton's voice rings in his ears, one two, one two, and Rover grips Dex like the other man is the only thing stopping him from fading right back into the Dreaming.

"I thought the war was over," he says hoarsely, forcing some amusement into his tone. It rings very hollow. "What are the Remnants doing loose? No, don't answer that." Rover squeezes Dex one last time, then lets go, consciously loosening each muscle one at a time until the hug's ended enough for him to pull back and peer into Dex's face again. "Answer this. If you were dy -- de -- just a few hours ago, then what are you doing walking around? Why aren't you either with Anton or in the Healer's Guild? There's a healer there, and not only is she downright gorgeous, she'd never let you walk around on your own. Also, who healed you? Was it Raine? We need to get her a present."

Rover's grip on Dexter might have hurt, except that it's one of the few things right now the feels even remotely real. When Rover lets go it feels like the world is tilting, and without a sound Dexter's grip tightens, even though Rover trying to pull back forces his face off Rover's shoulder.

"No, it was--Fletcher somebody--"

And then Rover's other words sink in and they feel like a knife shoved into his chest, twisting. A knife like--

Don't think.

"Anton's dead," he says stupidly, and no, that does not make it better, it does not. The distance doesn't crumble only because it's been weeks since it happened, and all the while Dex as on his feet and always moving, and that isn't going to change now. "Adrian Fletcher. It was Adrian Fletcher."

"Good," says Rover. "Then Adrian Fletcher Somebody is going to get one of the most magnificent hugs he's ever -- "

Anton's dead.

Rover falters. " -- that he's ever -- "

Anton's dead

got Remnanted

true-named bitch reached down my throat and yanked it out

Rover's next words sound to his own ears like they're coming from the bottom of a massive pit. Distant, but strangely clear. "Are you sure you didn't get shunted into some sort of..."

He looks lost. He feels lost. He knows Anton isn't dead, because Anton was just here, but he doesn't know that Anton isn't dead, because what if Anton went home while Rover was gone? What if Skulduggery did too? What if he and Dex are the only two Dead Men left, and they're stuck here with probably centuries of time between them, no gems to hold their souls, their lives shattered and nowhere to go once their time in Keeliai ends? What if this is it?

There's a desperate kind of hopelessness in Rover's eyes as he stares at Dex. "Anton can't be dead," he says meekly. "Anton was just here."

The look in Rover's eyes wrenches something in Dexter's chest. It feels nearly as bad as he had when he was lying on the ground, bleeding out into himself. Then the words click and Dexter repeats stupidly, "Anton's here?"

Anton's been shunted too? Here? Before--before?

Suddenly everything is crystal clear. Still fragile, though, and the only way to keep from stalling out is--

On your feet and don't stop moving.

Dex finally releases Rover only to seize his hand and pull him along down the boulevard, demanding sharply, "Which way?"

-- and they're moving. They're moving fast. Rover barely takes the time to process that before he speeds up to keep pace with Dex and looks around, trying to determine where the tram would have stopped and where he'd been planning to go from there. His sense of direction stalls, spins sluggishly, then finally shifts into high gear.

"That way." He points, and changes course. "There's an entrance nearly everywhere, but the only one I'm sure of is in Central, which is actually fine, because that's the one we're closest to anyway." He thinks. He hopes. "Didn't anyone point you to the Welcome Center? They have maps. They have little adorable leaflets."

Without missing a step Dexter matches Rover's changed course, answering tersely, "Didn't go." Going anywhere for information would've felt far too much like settling too long for emotions to actually catch up.

Don't stop moving, don't stop moving; on your feet, don't stop moving.

Dexter owes Shudder a hug. But he hopes that he won't have to stop moving to do it. Or maybe, by the time he gets there, he'll have tired himself out enough not to care.

"Didn't go?" Rover turns to stare at Dex without stopping. "Didn't anyone mention the Hotel is run by a terse and scary man who wears black and has a demon in his chest? Wasn't that the first thing anyone told you? That was the first thing anyone told me. 'Hello, you must be new, go get a room with the terse and scary man who wears black and has a demon in his chest'. Or maybe it was from. Go get a room from. What do you mean, he's dead?"

"Erskine had him killed." The words come out terse and flat, but the pain that comes with them is deep and dulled, and doesn't get past the speed Dexter's moving. "Turns out he's been plotting to take over the world for the last century. Anton and Ghastly were in the way."

It's a dull ache, that pain, right in his chest. To assuage it he adds, "Shudder isn't scary."

Rover stops dead in the middle of the street. He doesn't mean to. It comes as a surprise even to him. One moment, the buildings are all moving very quickly past him; the next, he's jerked forward by Dex's grip on his hand for a split second before the grip comes undone.

"That's a joke," he says after a moment, trying a smile. "That's a joke, right? Erskine wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, aside from all the flies he killed during the war, but that's different. They were bad. Anton isn't bad. Ghastly isn't bad."

[OOC: Thread continued here!]

Phantom faces at the window, phantom shadows on the floor

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