come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"A little bit, yeah." There's the slightest smile. He definitely is a nerd, but-- it's endearing on Steven. Maybe it just comes from knowing him his whole life, being right there and watching his interests flourish.

And he'd honestly rather-- focus on how Steven lights up over archeology books or old gods than talk about that

"Mm-- yeah." He clears his throat, nodding. "Yeah, I did... we did."

Surely Steven wasn't wanting all the details, right? "It was, uh... nice."

He can't believe he wasn't there for the wedding. But, at the same time, if he was there, Marc would have blacked out and it would have been pretty disastrous.

"I would've done the same," Steven muses quietly after wiping the last bits of food off the corners of his lips with the backs of his fingers. He would have wanted it to be a wonderful day for everyone, a big celebration for Layla and her family, not-- people asking where his mum and dad are or worrying if he'll get shards of light bulb glass cutting through his foot.

"There weren't many happy doors to open in the asylum. I hope you were happy. Even if it was-- only for a little while."

Oh, sure-- there were awkward questions about Mom and Dad not being there, but he'd-- told Layla that he hadn't talked to them in years, told her in vague terms they didn't get along and he'd rather not invite them at all. Talk about something that'd ruin the big day.

"Yeah, well-- she's something else." Steven knows that. What, he'd fallen for her in five seconds flat? Which Marc isn't sure which he's angrier about... Steven hitting on his wife, someone else stealing Steven's attention away. Probably a little of column A, a little of column B.

"I mean-- yeah. I guess I was. But she never knew me. I was never-- honest about us, or about our parents, or... about anything really. It wasn't right to pull her into that." It definitely wasn't right to not mention her father either, leave her wondering and hurting when he could have at least tried to help her heal... whatever she thought of him after.

"I'm not good at being happy, but--" He shrugs his shoulders, pushes himself back to his feet to clear away whatever's left of their food.

"I feel good with you too, you know."

She rescued him from Khonshu and even though she was a little bit mean about it, what was he supposed to do? Not admire her beauty and courage and all the things they like that they seem to share?

He thinks that maybe she'd want to get to know him, when Marc's ready. It's-- probably not fair to ask her to wait. But if they ever make it out of the cruise - if the skeleton's right and they're really alive - maybe there's still a chance. At the very least, he wants things to end with Layla on a positive note. Something they can both feel bittersweet about instead of just bitter.

"I do my best..." Although he doesn't always intentionally try to make Marc feel anything. Lately he's been putting in a bit more effort, since he can't just take over for a while whenever Marc feels bad. He's quietly happy that it seems to be working.

"I met the skeleton. Mr. Pleasant? He thinks we're not dead. I d'know what to make of it. If we're not dead, I can't be here on the outside can I? Not that I could tell him that."

She's got-- a lot to admire, it's true. He doesn't blame Steven, even if it eats at him in multiple ways for different reasons. Doesn't-- matter now though, does it?

Once he's cleaned up a bit, he's back to Steven and holding a hand out for him to take. They still got that walk after all, right?

"I... don't know, Steven. Ammit came with us and-- she hadn't been in that asylum with us, right? She'd been on our body." But he remembers dying. He remembers the scales and the zombies and the Field of Reeds. He remembers tackling Steven and begging him to not keep opening doors.

"Maybe we're both just insane and this is some world we created, huh?" Wouldn't be the first.

But either way-- "We have time to figure it out. Even if it's kinda--"

What he wants to say is it's driving him crazy. He doesn't feel-- whole. He feels like there's a Steven sized hole somewhere inside him and it's especially noticeable when they're separated in different areas. But he doesn't want to put that on Steven either.

"Strange. We're making it work, right?"

He takes Marc's hand without really thinking about it. There's nobody here. Nobody to give them weird looks or chastise them or make him feel self-conscious. He doesn't have to bother maintaining appearances or keeping his guard up.

"I have a fairly active imagination. Couldn't've come up with this though." There are way too many children here and not nearly enough fantastical, nonsensical things for this to be something Steven could think up. But who knows what's really going on anymore?

"I feel like I've lost my grip on reality the moment you arrived in my life," Steven observes as they head out the mess hall and out into the open area. He's not sure where they're going, but the aimless walking feels a little less aimless when Marc's leading the way.

"Everything we've done, everywhere we've been, everything you've told me - there's so many things happening, so many-- layers that we exist in. I don't know what's real anymore. But I know that when I was sane I was... just stuck in this rut. Woke up exhausted, rushed to work, turned up late anyway. Donna hated me but that was nice at least - she knew I was there. Most of the time I'm just invisible. Get home more exhausted than I've ever been and somehow the next day I can get even more exhausted than I was the day before. What kind of reality is that?" It's the kind that he had wanted, yes. The normal kind where nothing much really happened. It was comfortable and safe and-- sometimes happy. But was he really better off there?

"I don't want to go back to tha'. Why would I? And I don't want for you to be-- What kind of reality is it for you to be institutionalised? I don't-- I don't want for people to hurt you, even if I am no good for you. They should be dealing with me then, not you. Maybe it's... maybe it's okay if we don't figure it all out. And we just try and get through each day until something starts to make sense."

Marc doesn't really let go, even when they're out. Why should he, really? No one's around and he likes the contact, personally. It's something, at least. Besides, worse things they could each be doing anyway, right?

Instead, he's just leading the way towards the lake, listening to Steven talk as he keeps an eye out for anything that might-- do them harm. He hasn't seen anything yet, but he'd like to keep it that way, you know?

"You're the best thing that's happened for me," Marc insists after a moment. He doesn't want to be institutionalized either, not in the slightest. He's somehow avoided it this far, and he intends to avoid it for as long as possible. But he doesn't-- want Steven to suffer either.

"Getting through each day-- yeah. That sounds like it's for the best right now. We'll get through it together, yeah?" Somehow. Find something that... works.

"I... don't want you to go away, Steven. Having some assholes in white coats shove pills down me until I can't even hear you or see you anymore... I'm not doing that. Maybe that's where I should be, or deserve to be, but. that's not a life. And I'm choosing you."

He'll choose Steven every time over whatever 'well' looks like.

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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