Revenging Angel - The Rise and Fall of Harvey

[ss_buttcrack]

Who: Crichton (Harvey), Lt. Tayrey, Dr. Watson, Arthur, Cassandra, Erin, literally anyone is welcome to jump into this mess
What: Here's what you missed last time.
TL;DR: Harvey stole some revenge-loving daggers that were in Tayrey's care and used them to murder Valdis. He made Crichton watch. This is the place to play the fallout directly after.
When: Sep 30 for the murder, Oct 1, and forward for the fallout. Will include later dates in Oct, as well.
Where: The Brig + Various locations stated in the starters posted below
Warnings: Blood, Death, Gore, Violence, Mind-control, mention of Drugs/Alcohol Addiction, will warn for more as necessary


This is a nightmare. This is his worst nightmare come to pass. Valdis...frell. Is she going to come back in three days? After watching her die like that, he's terrified she might not. It's his fault. It's all his fault. He should have known Harvey would still be plotting behind his back. Why did he ever let himself believe it could be safe? He should have stayed locked in the brig.

God... help him.


In The Brig - Guard Duty - Open
This is where he belongs. This is where he should have stayed in the first place. This time, however, he can't stand to be alone. He's begged anyone and everyone he knows to, essentially, play guard duty on shifts. He can't let himself fall asleep unless there's someone there to watch him. Even then, it's hard. The dark circles under his eyes grow more purple by the day as he constantly starts to nod off, only to jerk himself awake again in a panic.

It will go on like this for days. He'll refuse to take one step out of this cell, not even to go get food. Not like he has much of an appetite anyway. Besides, he knows if he walks out of here the first place he might wind up is in front of a bar. He's let Valdis down enough already... he can't risk it.

Find him huddled up in the corner of the brig under a blanket once again like a sick case of deja vu. If it's your turn to watch him, he'll point to his pulse pistol sitting over on a chair outside the cell and say, "Use that on me if I try to leave."

[ooc: feel free to handwave Crichton asking for your character's help.

Rise & Shine
Harvey is dead. Crichton had to die with him. Now, three days later, only one of them is back alive.

At 6:00 a.m. sharp, Crichton takes a deep breath in. His eyes fly open and he sits straight up in his bed. Is it done? Is he gone? Is Harvey really gone?

Crichton searches his mind, trying to access that place where he and his mental clone used to meet. He can't. It isn't there. Harvey isn't there!! The weight of him is lifted. For the first time in so, so long, Crichton is alone in his own mind.

"YES!!" He jumps out of bed and dances in place right there on the carpet, with a few more excited whoops and hollers for good measure.

"He's gone! HE'S GONE!"

Crichton might be so distracted by his own celebrating that he may or may not notice if he has company in the room with him. But, the more the merrier today. He's finally free!

----

The celebrating doesn't stop there. Good God, he's so hungry. People brought him sandwiches while he was down in the brig, but he'd only picked at them half-heartedly. Not much appetite. Well, guess what's back now?? He could eat a whole cougar.

Find him spread out in the buffet later that morning with five plates in front of him, greedily shoving every type of breakfast confection into his mouth like he's worried they're going to vanish off his plate. They are, but they're vanishing into his stomach! Food has never tasted this good.

Wildcard options open: Let me know what kind of starter you want and I'll make it happen. Keep in mind this will be the last chance to participate with Harvey. He'll be perma-dead at the conclusion of this plot.]

Comments

[not_the_last]

"I do," she says, and holds out to Crichton a small clear plastic vial, sealed, with the broken fragments of the chip inside it. (It used to hold beads; she's moved them to a section of her jewelry box for the time being.)

"I wondered if it might not be a good idea to keep one piece of it separate, just to be sure that it can't be repaired, but ... I thought you would be the best judge of that."

[ss_buttcrack]

He carefully takes the vial from her, almost like he's afraid it could burn him. But it's just inert pieces. Just the shattered shell of his nightmares. For close to half a minute, he looks at it, entranced. This frelling thing. It's finally over.

Her suggestion rouses him finally. "Oh... huh. Yeah, actually, that might be a good idea. Maybe we should separate more than one. Don't Wayne and Flan have that safe room set up for storing things? Maybe I should give a piece to them, and one for you to guard, too, Cass."

[theotherright]

"That's a good idea."

Arthur feels both entirely superfluous to this conversation, and determined not to be.

"Can't hurt to be careful."

[not_the_last]

"I know a place I could store it," she says, "where it shouldn't be retrievable by anyone but myself. If that suits."

She can't quite help glancing at Arthur again, still not certain where things stand between the two of them.

[ss_buttcrack]

"That sounds perfect. Don't tell me more than that, though, just to be extra safe." He opens the vial and picks out a piece of that smashed chip, grimacing when he realizes there are still some dried... bits... attached. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

He catches her glancing at Arthur and sighs. He really should say... something.

"Cass, it'll be okay. We're all... friends here. Right, Arthur?"

[theotherright]

Well now Arthur has to wonder what happened to prompt that question, because something must have, and for obvious reasons he's not been noticing all the glances.

"Yes, as far as I am aware." Okay dude you could have stopped that sentence one word in, maybe even not sounded on edge, but you didn't.

[not_the_last]

"Of course." For her part, Cassandra doesn't sound on edge at all, mostly because she's had a great deal of practice in being on edge and not sounding it.

She does give Crichton a look of faint worry, one that says you're sure? without saying it aloud.

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton rolls his eyes at that comment from Arthur. Thanks, a simple yes would have been fine.

But he nods to Cassandra only slightly reluctantly. Yes. For better or for worse.

"Good. Then, uh... either we should all try going back to bed, or we should get dressed and grab some breakfast. God, I'm starving actually."

[theotherright]

Arthur's mouth twitches, almost but not quite compulsively smiling. Partly at the choice of words. Mostly because there is definitely some communication going on without words here, and for the record, he fucking hates it.

And uh, actually he was hoping to talk to Crichton alone whenever they were done here, but if the meeting is extending into breakfast--

For the most part, since his timeline oopsie-daisy, he's been avoiding eating with people. What was once a social activity is now... well, he's still working through some things. But he feels an abrupt misgiving about letting the two of them go off to talk without him, and staying here alone.

"Breakfast sounds wonderful," he says, decisive. "How about the buffet? I don't think I have eaten there in a minute."

[not_the_last]

As it happens, Cassandra hasn't been eating with others much lately either.

"I'd be delighted to join you," she says without hesitation, "though yes, I should certainly get properly dressed first. If you'll both excuse me for a few minutes?"

And she'll retreat to her cabin, unless someone forestalls her.

[ss_buttcrack]

The monumental amount of awkward energy in this room right now is already making him regret suggesting breakfast. What was he thinking? He didn't think they'd both... ah, screw it. He's just looking forward to his first day as a free man. Can't he have just one day? Let everyone else sort themselves out. They can fistfight each other over his pancakes for all he cares.

"Sound good, Cass. Take your time."

He waits until the door is firmly shut and then a few seconds more before he turns back to Arthur and says, "Okay, let me have it." He knows you gotta be stewing on something over there.

[theotherright]

Arthur untenses just a little once Cass is gone. He moves a foot to see how far he is from the bed. Then he sinks down onto it, moving his hands nervously, and obliges the request.

"This is your day," he begins, slowly, "and I don't want to shadow it. So I apologise for asking this, a-and there won't be follow-ups, whether or not you choose to answer."

He breathes out, trying to expel at the same time the feeling of...

Of being cornered. Of eyes on his back, and whispers behind it. Of a snare that he's put himself into. A horribly familiar set of feelings. It doesn't work, because they all come from his guilt, and guilt isn't something you can breathe away.

"Does Cass know that I killed you?"

He asks it quietly, afraid of being overheard, but he doesn't dance around the phrasing. He won't insult Crichton by hedging and using some euphamism for the big k-word. Arthur has no right to avoid the truth of it.

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton stays where he is by the door, hugging his arms to himself knowing Arthur won't be able to see that. A slow drip of dread trickles down his spine while he waits for Arthur to just... spit it out.

Then he does, and Crichton's belly clenches like he just took a punch.

"No. She doesn't. Not many do."

[theotherright]

"All right." Quiet, at Crichton's tone. "I-- thank you." For telling him? For not telling her? For both? He's desperate to ask who does know, besides of course Valdis, but he did say he wouldn't ask further questions, and he's already brought Crichton's mood down far enough.

"Right. Er."

Oh god what does he say now. He cranks himself up to be like 30% more upbeat:

"What- what do you think you'll want for your first breakfast as a free man?"

Nailed it.

[ss_buttcrack]

He's bracing for more questions. He didn't actually believe Arthur could just... let it go at that. He was already counting back in his head trying to collect his memory of who even does know. Valdis and Siffleur. Did he tell anyone else or was he too ashamed? Now he's spared from answering and instead...

The dry silence in the room may as well be audible.

Arthur is... Jesus. Putting on a happy face for him. What passes for one. Right. This is his day. He's waited for so long to get to this moment. Goddammit, he's going to enjoy it.

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner," Crichton answers sarcastically. "I'm having chicken and waffles. Extra syrup."

[not_the_last]

Before Arthur can react to that particular piece of whimsy, there's a knock at the door.

(She did try to take her time, really she did.)

[theotherright]

("Oh shit," says Arthur, realising he still hasn't put trousers on, and he dives immediately back towards the wardrobe. There's a fight with the bed-post on the way, which he loudly loses.)

[ss_buttcrack]

"Oh, shi--" he also was not very focused on actually getting dressed or, in his case, changed into something slightly less sticky with his own blood.

He skids to a stop just in time to not trip over Arthur who has fallen like a tree in his path to the wardrobe.

"Give us a couple more minutes, Cass!" Crichton calls out through the door.

And then he starts yanking on Arthur's arm to get him back up again. "Come on, it's not like you weigh that much..."

The sounds coming from inside this door right now are probably wild and a little concerning.

[not_the_last]

A little concerning, but all things considered she's not going to get too worried about it.

(The thought that some sort of canoodling is causing those noises does cross her mind, but only in the resigned realization that at least two of her brother's friends -- and possibly Erin -- would be unable to resist a joke to that effect.)

[theotherright]

"Ouw, fuck," complains Arthur, as he goes from his auto-coup-de-grace straight into being pulled up by the arm, his shoulder rotating to just whatever position sucks the most. "Gently!"

He makes it to his feet, rubbing his shoulder and grumbling.

Erin is really missing out by not being at that door.

[ss_buttcrack]

"I'm being gentle," Crichton insists, even though he is being no such thing. Erin isn't here to make fun of them but poor Crabb must be having a time of it next door. As usual.

"Okay, move over, I gotta get a fresh shirt and pants on." The rustle of fabric should tell Arthur that Crichton is stripping down right here next to him. Thankfully, for all parties involved, no one can yet bear witness to the new tattoo Crichton is sporting on his left asscheek.

In a matter of minutes, Crichton is dressed again. Not... well, but he is indeed wearing a new shirt and pants. In clashing tropical prints.

"Ready yet? Can I let her in?"

[theotherright]

Whenever Crichton pulls some clothes out of the wardrobe, the sound of clacking hangers lets Arthur zero in on his target; he strikes, swapping his pajamas for some actual daytime bottoms, and grabbing a sweater and a hat for good measure. A wardrobe refresh overseen by Ossie, plus a system of safety-pins to tell Arthur roughly what colour things are, mean that he's ended up more coordinated than the guy who can actually see what he's dressing in.

Unfortunately his socks are inside out, but you can't have everything.

"Yes, yes, go ahead," he says shortly, as he propels himself at the correct angle to get from the wardrobe to the bathroom door. "I'm just going to splash my face."

[ss_buttcrack]

"All right, I'll let her know." He should probably check himself in the mirror too but what the hell. If anyone makes a crack about his hair he'll tell them more than they wanted to know about how he got this way.

He goes to the door and opens it for Cassandra. "Okay, we're decent." -ish. "Arthur's just in splashing his face and then we'll get going. I was just saying how I'm going to get myself a big plate of chicken and waffles. It's the meal of champions. What do you think you'll have?"

[not_the_last]

Cassandra steps in, smiling with some bemusement at Crichton's words. She's dressed, though rather more hastily than she might ordinarily; a knit shirt instead of a buttoned blouse over her calf-length skirt, with no waistcoat or jacket.

"I can't say I've given it much thought. Chicken and waffles? Is that a usual breakfast food, in your world?"

These cabins are always such close quarters; she realizes that she's standing where Arthur will have to cross to come out of the restroom, and shifts to one side, nudging up against the chest of drawers.

[theotherright]

Fun fact: the cabins get even pokier when you add a whole-ass standing cabinet gramophone, the wind-up sort that comes nearly up to a person's chest. It is a very handsome addition though.

One of the drawers is pushed slightly open by its overstuffed contents, and it squishes slightly closed as Cass nudges up against them. There's a soft crinkle of wax paper and a smell of cheddar and cured meats.

Splash splash splash, from the bathroom, and Arthur reappears towelling his face with his sleeve. He's temporarily caneless -- it's in its usual place by the door -- hence: "Shout if I'm about to walk into anybody."