Blacksmith Square - Home
"He's... an awakened."Light spilled into the room through where the curtains had been left parted, momentarily blinding Nate when he first opened his eyes, startling him further. Only half-undressed, he still wore the same boxers and shirt he'd thrown on the day before, the rest of his clothes haphazardly draped over the back of his chair at the other side of the room. "Ugh," he barely mouthed, his mouth feeling dry to the point it was like stone, before fumbling around the side of the bed for the bottle of juice he'd left there the night before. First time he felt it, he knocked it over, but a half-assed effort to lean over the bed and pick it up rectified that and his notions of thirst were quenched with a couple of gulps. Despite actually getting down at a reasonable hour last night, he felt as tired as he would've if he'd been sat at his desk until two or three in the morning - he even checked the clock to make sure it wasn't an early hour.
The dream was probably to blame for that.
Awakened?In that dream, Nate had seen something that looked like a tattoo on the kid's chest. There was a familiarity to it, one he realised when his thoughts drew back to the mark he'd noticed out of the corner of his eye whilst toweling down from the shower, an abstract symbol seared into the back of his neck. Touching it didn't seem to bring about any sort of sensation different to what it normally would've felt like, but the fact it had just appeared overnight was enough to raise questions. The weirdest part? At first, he'd thought it was pure luck that Aunt Viv and Quent hadn't yet seen it, plus his own habit of wearing a hoodie or a shirt which allowed him to keep it covered up.
That in itself would've taken some explaining to do, not to mention it would have probably meant getting a lecturing call from Dad about impulsive decisions. Yet, in the end, it seemed only
he could see it - Quent had caught him quickly making his way back through the house after a shower with just a towel around his waist and made no mention or glance towards the new 'tattoo' and these suspicions had been confirmed when Aunt Viv had noticed a 'discoloured patch' on the back of his neck - not quite yet healed from the night of the party - but made no mention of the brand either.
It was yet another reminder that this
wasn't a long-term hallucination induced by the shrooms.
People had died, seen some fucked up stuff.
He almost died and he'd definitely seen some fucked up stuff there, no amount of desensitisation able to blot out the thoughts of people stampeding to get out of that fucking camp, dead bodies left right and center.
Blinking, he checked the clock again and realised that about five minutes had passed since he'd last taken notice and groaned, eventually shifting his weight out of bed. There was a faint, almost musty odour in the air and Nate quickly figured out the cause - himself. Grumblling again, he slipped out of his old clothes, kicked them towards a small heap on the corner to put in the wash pile later, then gave himself a quick spray of deodorant.
Better.Once that was done, he threw on some fresh clothes and headed downstairs, ready to grab something to eat. Viv would probably be sat downstairs or something whilst Quent, he figured, would've been out working again. No surprise there - it had been a busy week for the man since that clusterfuck at the camp. The way Nate had heard it, Sheriff Reese was barely a couple inches from becoming an exhausted wreck in the wake of hearing from over a dozen eyewitnesses that it had been
his kid who'd gone on a bender, butchering people left and right, to the point he'd left most of his deputies to pick up the pieces, taking witness statements and co-ordinating with other agencies from out of town.
This shit was on the
national level, even.
And Nate, for his part, had bullshitted his way out knowing any part of it - when Quent had inevitably checked by to figure out where he'd actually been that night (and if, by extension, he'd seen or heard things happen at the party) he played dumb. To corroborate his story, that night he'd got home, slumped into the shower and stuffed his clothes under the bed, out of sight and acted as if he'd got lost, wouldn't have known how to get there. Most of the other folks who'd been there couldn't have known him yet, so he'd hoped that nobody could ID him.
Besides, even if he told the truth, how could he have explained it without causing any more bullshit for himself?
Oh gee wiz, Uncle Quent - you sure aren't gonna believe this, I went to a party to get wasted and have a good time but instead had to steal a boat so I didn't get skullfucked by Bruce Banner's redneck cousin! Aunt Viv didn't need any of that crap on her plate and neither did Quent, not when they'd been good to him like that. It's why he'd kept it a secret and slipped out the moment he could, narrowly dodging half a dozen Deputies (Quent probably one of them) in the woods. That call he'd made to 'Quent' had never gone through, which meant it was probably just a hallucination he'd had - maybe from all the stress.
On top of that, there was one other thing that definitely went beyond explanation.
And guess what? I'm dreaming about phasing my ass through shit! Nate had no means of explaining it, no idea what it meant - but the morning after the shitshow at the camp, he'd woken up from a shitty dream about it, only to find himself half-sunken into the bed, a distorted sensation of being immersed in water overwhelming him - it was just a dream, but it felt
real. Another time he imagined that he'd been caught off-guard by Viv's early return from work when he had first been trying to hide the mark on the back of his neck, accidentally backing into a closed door - only for colour to bleed out from sight and for him to step through, almost seamlessly. Or at least that's what he thought had happened, tired as he was. A dozen other dreams where
accidents of the same caliber had occurred, all supposedly caused by necessity or by something catching him off-guard.
His thoughts drifted back to the latest dream again, of the two kids who'd narrowly been saved from that
thing by those three weirdos in renaissance garb. Never before had he dreamed about something with that degree of clarity, nor had he ever come up something like that before.
What would
Mom have figured?
No, Nate shrugged the thought off. She wasn't here, no point thinking on it now. Instead, he gave off a low chuckle at just how fucking
stupid it all sounded, even more stupid that it had actually happened.
"What's funny?" A feminine voice asked, jolting him from his thoughts. His gaze shifted over to find Aunt Viv, reclining on the couch as she filtered through the newsfeed on a tablet. She remarked again, "Something must be, otherwise I wouldn't be seeing you down here so early."
"That's very observant of you." Nate shot back, deadpan. Living with Viv and Quent was like living in a boxing ring, only instead of sparring with fists they used words. "But the only thing that's funny around here is your taste in daily propaganda." He thumbed towards the crappy reality show that was being broadcast on the TV.
Sucking in a breath, she idly reached out with the remote and shifted to another channel - the news this time it seemed, judging by the faint noise about the recent spate of murders in the area, "You can skip the sarcasm."
"Hey, don't hate a critic for peddling his craft," Nate threw his hands up for a moment, then turned towards the direction of the kitchen and headed over to the fridge, leaning down to get a peek inside. "On rations?" he groaned, finding it relatively sparse. Viv didn't take long to call back, "Forgot to fetch some groceries last night and I don't have the heart to make your poor Uncle Quentin head out when he's busy with things already."
"Sorry I asked," he said, a pang of genuine remorse for his blunt remark hitting him, "Screw it, I'll get something in town, I guess. Any suggestions?"
"Breakfast there is good for the money." There was a pause, just for a moment, before she spoke up again, "You good on that front?"
"Yeah." Nate admitted. He wasn't about to bullshit and try and bum more cash off Viv of all people, especially not when Dad mostly had him covered. It wasn't like she
couldn't afford it, but there was something in that which felt wrong - like taking advantage of their decency. After all, they never
had to take him in, Dad could've easily got him a spot in a dorm at Grand Ridge if that had been the only option on the tables. "Thanks, though, Aunt Viv. I'll see you later, yeah?"
One more time, he heard a reassuring note, "Call me if you need anything."
The only thing on his mind that he
needed right now, food aside, was beyond her help. Repressing a faint, half-assed snort, Nate stepped out and set off - on the way, he could at least drop by Grand Ridge - see what was going on there, maybe catch up on some work. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.
Grand Ridge - Bathroom
@Surtr Inc@Prosaic
It hadn't taken Nate long to reach the place - for all the shit people might have given him for his weight, he could cross a good walking distance in short time. Setting up in the library, he logged into the student account set up for him and began to check up on some of the work he'd not quite caught up on in the week. It wasn't long before he found himself tending to other [i]needs[i] however, but as he washed up, looking at what remained of his submission that was due for the next week, he realised in hindsight could've done it from home on his own computer.
Fuck it, he'd-
A loud pop and clatter erupted from somewhere close by, definitely, followed almost immediately after by the shrill sirens of the fire alarm. Was that a gunshot? It almost sounded like those you'd hear popping off at the shooting range, like Quent had shown him that one time. By all rights, he should've run - should've at least left it, but something
stupid told him to go and investigate - or so he figured as he stepped out.
Atrophy
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Fetzen