— on our way. @artielittle - Tumblr Blog

It’s been an hour that they’ve been on the island, and after reuniting with everyone, Artie finds himself sat beneath the shade of a palm tree, atop an uncomfortable lump of rock, turning the compass this way and that with a frown on his face. He attempts to recall what exactly that darned pilot had told them, but in the rush of everything, Artie only remembers snippets of their one-sided conversation. Finally, he looks up at Aza.

“Embody the trait that corresponds with each stone?” He wonders out-loud. “Is that what he said? We’ve gotten bravery, as it seems, but what could the others be, and how are we to guess where on the map they would be?”

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @azadehkhani.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — aza.

With a week taken off from therapy, Artie hasn’t had a chance to talk with Eric. Or rather, he hasn’t sought the younger man out on purpose. He considered it for several days after their time in the wild wild west, thinking back on the heavy look Eric gave him seconds before opening the safe at the bank. I hope you understand, he’d said. And of course Artie did. Except, something of that caliber wasn’t so obvious to Eric. He’d spent much of his life running from this past, from these people who changed him in a fundamental way, that it must be hard to realize that other people, different people who had nothing to do with that, would be willing to look past and move forward with Eric once they knew the truth.

Artie didn’t know how to approach him for a couple of reasons. He wanted to say, Eric, I understand, and my only hope is that you will be kind to yourself. Kinder than you’ve ever been with anybody. Except that those words don’t convey the sincerity of his thoughts about the younger man, in fact words aren’t quite enough, and so Artie decided that sometimes second chances didn’t need to be granted with words or put into any conditions. That left hoping that he would be able to convey it somehow, in a concrete manner that Eric doesn’t doubt, that above all things, he is happy to know him.

“Ah, Eric, there you are!” He calls the younger man over as he approaches, finally finding him about thirty minutes after landing, treading through the warm sand. “I have the feeling that we’re meant to bring two things together. I have the compass,” He extends his hand out and shows Eric what he’d bought from the general store at main street. “Do you have the map?”

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @knockdovvn.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — eric.

Artie is still in shock when they reach the ground. Not from his heart leaping in his chest when he jumped off the aircraft, not when he was tugged back, sudden and like a marionette, by the deployement of his parachute. He’s in shock because at some point during his fall he opened his eyes, amazed at how capable his body felt to land once he reached the ground, and managed to get a good look at the approaching landscape. He saw a sprawling island below them, and Artie is quickly looking this way and that once he’s already steadied himself on land. He spots Jess in the distance, and he rushes to untangle himself from the parachute, leaving it behind as he runs to her side.

“Ho! What a landing!” He’s surprised at how cheerful he sounds, yelling from several yards away while he approaches. For the past week that Artie wasn’t in the simulation, he cursed and cursed at his body and its pains. “Why, I had half the mind to curse that pilot out! But I suppose it wasn’t so bad afterall. I think I’m starting to like this simulation more and more-- zombies and crooks not withstanding.”

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @contrclled.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — jess.

knockdovvn·:

eric let out a soft chuckle, followed by a cordial and modest “— thanks.” it dawned on him that he didn’t know as much about artie as he did about others, or that he did not have anyone else from his age cohort in his life. either way, he found artie’s company surprisingly pleasant. whichever morsels about his life he dared divulge constantly left eric eager to know more. for this, it hurt to look at the grey-haired man and find compassion in his eyes. had eric been in his position, he couldn’t have forgiven an attack like that one. but artie was a better person than eric would ever be, knowledge that was no burden to bear: if the world hadn’t destroyed itself yet, they owed it to people with a disposition like his.

“in that case, i like our odds,” he added, a gentle yet bright smile tugging at freckled cheeks. motioning at the bartender and thereafter throwing back his own drink quicker than it’d taken the other to pour it, eric gave artie a gentle pat on the back and made his way toward the men’s table.

“any chance your next game can sit two more?”·

.

The men sitting at the table look up at the sound of Eric’s question. They size the pair of them up, exchanging glances between themselves as if they’re communicating through a different channel. Artie makes sure to look confident, but more importantly, he absentmindedly places his hand on his pouch of money, drawing their attention to the potential amount they could win off the pair. After a few seconds of mutual sizing-up, they recieve an answer.

It’s a simple nod for them to take a seat. Artie silently obliges, and soon enough, the cards are being shuffled. He keeps a watchful eye on the dealer as he places their bets, pushing a handful of bills and coin to the center of the table. The man looks at the pile and seems pleased. The cards are dealt.

After an hour and a handful of raised bets, Artie stares down the only man at the table besides himself who hasn’t folded yet. It’s been between the two of them for the past ten minutes, and the man hasn’t stopped looking smug since then. He meets Artie’s gaze with a grin that he’s trying to hide as he raises three more coins.

“Tell you what I’m gonna do,” Artie says after a pause, “I’ll make you a little deal.” This makes the man’s eyebrows rise with suspicion. Artie continues. “If I win, I don’t take the money. I get information on a group we’ve heard tell about around town, and the amount me and my compatriot here raised during this game goes into the bet for the next game.” He sees the man consider this; it’s uncommon to raise these kinds of differences is rewards towards the end of a cash game, but everyone at the table seems interested to hear how they can have another chance at winning their money. “And if you win, you still get the money.”

He can tell it takes the man some deliberation, but after a handful of seconds, he slowly nods and grunts an agreement. He looks happy enough to do it; Artie recognizes the face of a man who is celebrating a percieved victory too early.

“Straight in diamonds.” The man places his cards on the table confidently. Artie glances at them, keeping his face carefully expressionless. After a few seconds of this, the man gets impatient with him. “Admit you’ve lost, partner--” And as he’s moving to rake in the pile of money, Artie places his cards down. “In your honor,” he offers a polite smile, “A royal flush.”

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — eric.#im camping on the video you sent HDSUFHI

thecollectvr·:

.

With great reluctance, Vanka lets herself be peeled away. She already misses the hug, but she guesses Artie’s not in much of a mood to give them out right now. That’s alright! She’ll just hope to catch him when he is in the mood.

And then Artie just has to go and bring up… that. Vanka visibly wilts, tugging her cowboy hat so it shields her eyes, though it doesn’t hide the guilty slant of her mouth underneath it. “Because– I gave it a name,” she falters. “It was Mr. Ouchey. Because people would have gone ouch when it sprayed them. And I panicked and threw it away, I lost it, and I couldn’t just leave it all alone in the middle of zombies.”

It’s no doubt a familiar screed. Vanka’s said similar things hundreds of times during therapy. She knows she has. She’s tried to throw things out so many times, only to have to guiltily fish them out of the garbage.

“But!” Vanka beams. “At least I got it back, right? And–” Her hands go to her side, where the pepper spray had been, and find nothing. After some frantic patting over all of her pockets, Vanka looks at Artie with horrified eyes. “Where did it go? I must have dropped it somewhere– I’m such an idiot!”

.

Artie spends a brief moment looking out into the distance, beyond the scene of Vanka patting over her pockets with increasingly frantic speed, to where the desert connects to the pale blue sky and even beyond. He wishes he had not said anything.

“Vanka,” He starts, keeping his voice calm and level. He looks down at her and places his hands on her shoulders, hoping to keep her grounded before she spirals. “Those items were fake, remember? We never actually had them. They were as real as the flesh-eating zombies.”

He’s not actually sure what helps, but he already chose an angle. Artie’s heard this kind of talk from Vanka before, wondering what it is that makes her get so attached to objects that she can’t bring herself to throw anything out. He’s tried to relate to her, looking at his own sentimental items– the watch his husband bought for him on their tenth anniversary, the music boxes he collects, his wedding band– he’d get upset if he lost these, of course, but not to the extent that Vanka gets upset over losing a… pepper spray. He doesn’t quite understand.

Letting go of her shoulders, he remains reluctantly hopeful that this won’t turn in the wrong direction. “It’s best that you don’t get attached to anything in these levels. No naming objects, no assuming they’re lonely or need an owner, or anything of the sort.”

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — vanka.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.

contrclled·:

Jess had done her best to put her end in the last level out of her mind. to her, getting bit and not surviving to the end was as good as the whole team failing the level. She was proud of Aza, of course. but her control freak nature meant that she wanted to be the one to conquer every level all y herself. But that wasn’t how the game worked.

Her eyes surveyed the open window of the second floor, as she mused, “Oh they’ll mind. But only until I make it clear I’m not some creep, I’m just there to talk. Lady to lady, they’ll understand. I think,” she paused, “I don’t know, I’ve never had a lot of women friends but I’ve been told there’s some implicit comradery. And they’re video game npcs, how difficult to persuade could they possibly be?”

.

Artie realizes that he walked into a conversation in which he doesn’t have much input a little too late, but then again, that is every conversation with Jess. He purses his lips in thought, used to being looked to for answers as the oldest person in most groups these days, but he can’t really say in this scenario. The most likely situation is that Jess is simply speaking out loud and asking Artie is a way to make a confirmation to herself, but he still makes an attempt to at least put up an air that he knows.

“I mean, sure.” He says wisely. “Women do trust other women more.” He pauses, staring at the building still, pretending like he’s thinking. After a long pause, without looking at Jess, he asks: “What’s an NPC?”

#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — jess.

knockdovvn·:

“do you smell like old spice?” eric retorted. “yeah, ‘course i play,” he redundantly added, eyeing the table of men warily. in all fairness, however, he used the term ‘play’ loosely: once he’d figured how to count cards, most ordinary games had become too slow-paced for him. “do you?”

he sighs at artie’s next words, the exhale heavy with shameful regret. he felt the ghost pain of the bite that had turned him on his shoulder still, which he tried to ignore while uncomfortably scratching the back of his neck. he could imagine artie felt something similar, making it a tad callous that he had to work with eric after it’d been him who’d bitten artie mere hours ago.

“you think?” he shook his head. out of a sense of obligation, he extended an apology to the grey-haired man after that. “if it… makes it any it better, artie, it was nothing personal – you were just within reach.”

“What?” Artie self-consciously brings his collar up to sniff it, frowning when the scent of Old Spice hits him. He didn’t think he wore so much that others could pinpoint it. He’s always thought himself to be tasteful about these things, though he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before an indignant sound comes out of his lips. “Do I– Do I play?” He blinks as if his eyelashes have taken personal offense. “I’ve played with hoards of soldiers at the barracks, boy. The sort of people who will cheat you out of the seams in your clothes.” The rattlings of an old man, maybe, but he has categorized a list of tells when the opposing player is playing dishonestly and he prides himself on it.

With another glance towards the table, he nods. “I know.” Artie didn’t see any recognition in Eric’s eyes back then. “I know. Let bygones be bygones, especially when they feel like a dream. Anyhow,” He looks at the younger man, setting his glass on the bar counter. “It appears that their game is coming to an end. Let’s approach.”

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — eric.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.

“Do you play cards?” Artie raises an eyebrow at Eric, dividing his attention between that and going through his inventory, doing mental maths, trying to remember every card game he’s ever played. Artie is from the old school of games, so he’s well versed in plenty of them. He still gets invited to poker nights.

“And also,” he stops moving and takes a drink from his glass. It’s strong. “I’ve forgiven you for biting my arm. It was against your will, I’m sure.”

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @knockdovvn.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — eric.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.

Artie quietly approaches Devon. He stands next to him at a respectable five foot distance, turning his gaze towards the distance, hazy with heat and dust. “I like westerns.” He says suddenly, lips pursed in contempation. He’s trying to find the best approach here, though he’s not too sure on how much Devon was affected by the last couple of hours, or if he’s as steadfast as ever.

He clears his throat. “What you did back there--” he spares a glance at him, “You know, with the-- not leaving us behind and dying in the process yourself...” Artie takes a long pause, “You could’ve lived.”

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @devonyang.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — devon.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.

Not having the opportunity to talk with the group before jumping into the next level is making everything feel a little bit more fresh. Artie sees Jess and remembers a few hours ago, when he tackled her to the ground in an attempt to save Aza and Devon, the latter of which ultimately met an ugly fate. Jess wasn’t herself anymore, but it’s still an ugly memory. As much as he can barely put up with her at times, he doesn’t like seeing her... well, with loss of control. How ironic.

“You really think you can climb this place?” Artie approaches her, kicking up dirt with his cowboy boots. He looks up at the Christie's, squinting one eye. “I mean, the showgirls-- don’t you think they’ll mind?”

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @contrclled.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — jess.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.

thecollectvr·:

@artielittle·

Artie won’t have a whole lot of time to adjust to suddenly being in a cowboy paradise, not with Vanka shoving her way into a hug, squeezing his ribs and clinging on. “You were so badass, Artie!” she enthuses. “You did the whole sacrifice play, taking out all those zombies right as you were turning, you’re such a hero!”

She would have said so earlier, in the brief time they were out of the simulation, but Vanka had kind of abruptly vanished for 99% of that spare time. So now she has to do her praising while they’re dressed like cowboys.

“I hope I’m half as cool as you one day,” she beams.

.

Artie instictively tries to move away from the hug, still jumpy at the memory of his trusted therapy group turning into zombies and attacking each other violently. It’s a good thing he hasn’t seen Eric yet; he still feels the ghostly sensation of his teeth ripping into the flesh in his arm.

“Alright-- alright then!” Artie jumps and puts his hands on Vanka’s shoulders, trying to peel her away. Either Vanka is not aware of her own arm strength or she’s too excited beaming at Artie, but boy does she give a strong bear hug.

“Don’t wish for any nonesense. It’s not too early to assume zombies won’t manifest in whatever,” Artie takes a look around them, “... wild western world we are. And anyway, you put the group in harms way back then.” He says, with all of the disappointed elderly energy he’s always displaying.

He sighs now, looking at Vanka. “Why did you have to go back for your pepper spray?”

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — vanka.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — four: ❛ the plains ❜.

❛ Cheers, I suppose, ❜ Artie lifts his glass of wine towards Devon, attempting to gauge out his mood while he watches him carefully. ❛ To the success of... the program. ❜ He purses his lips and squints, clearly doubting himself. ❛ —The Key... video game... digital... marvel. Truly marvelous. Cheers. ❜

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @devonyang.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — devon.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — one: ❛ the tutorial ❜.

fcontrclled·:

Jess can take a joke, so she plays along, “No actually, my bedroom is the butcher box so all the plastic sheeting is in there.” She glances at the locked double doors, “And I’m definitely a murderer, the lack of decor can be attributed to that instead of the fact that I just moved here and all my stuff is still in boxes in my bedroom.” That was only kind of a lie.

“Let me guess your home is decorated head to toe in tasteful grazielda figurines or some old person shit like that?”

.

Artie follows her gaze and eyes the double doors suspiciously. Part of him honestly believes that Jess is saying the truth and masking it behind sarcasm— he wouldn’t be surprised.

❛ Tasteful, yes. But I don’t know about these grazielda figurines you’re talking about. I do have some collections, ❜ he says with pause, wondering how much he should share about himself. It’s strange how he sees Jess in therapy every week, yet they know so little about the mundane things in each others lives.

❛ —I collect records and music boxes. My husband likes collecting fountain pens and inkwells... and all sorts of elegant stationery. Anyway, why did you move to such a large space ? You’re alone, aren’t you ? ❜ Artie asks, then blandly rephrases: ❛ I mean, you don’t share the space with someone else. ❜

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — jess.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — one: ❛ the tutorial ❜.

contrclled·:

she rolls her eyes. jess and artie weren’t on the best of terms. “well how brave of you to be in attendance when the host is just a ticking time bomb.” she bites her lip, holding back from digging any deeper. there was some unwanted ramifications of going to group therapy. everyone knows your secrets, which means they know how to hurt you. and if jess went low, artie could too.

.

Artie shrugs in agreement. He wouldn’t say that Jess’ idea to have a small party before the big event was considerate and a good way to build morale, but he is thinking it. It’s just that he wouldn’t say it.

❛ Yes, well, I’ve got valuable experience they’d be lost without. Now, ❜ Artie looks at her again, ❛ is your apartment bare of decor because it’s easier to get the blood splatters out ? ❜

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — jess.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — one: ❛ the tutorial ❜.

❛ Azadeh, be a dear, won’t you ? ❜ Artie gets her attention, pointing towards the kitchen from his place at the table. ❛ Would you get me another glass of wine ? I’ve already sat down and these knees’ll make a fuss about standing again. ❜

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @azadehkhani.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — azadeh.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — one: ❛ the tutorial ❜.

Upon seeing her, Artie does a quick once-over. She doesn’t seem to be wearing any merch with his face on it— god knows where she even gets those things— so he digs into his manners and offers a polite smile.

❛ Hello, Vanka. Enjoying the party ? ❜

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @thecollectvr.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — vanka.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — one: ❛ the tutorial ❜.

After several moments of thoughtful chewing and glancing around for a sign of anything really, Artie looks at Eric and makes a face. ❛ And I thought I was bad at decorating. ❜

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 — @knockdovvn.

#𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 — eric.#𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓 — one: ❛ the tutorial ❜.

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— on our way.