Trading Smokes

(Re:VAMP RP blog) (Wilmore Chambers)

[eightiesfan]

Sony FH-9 (1983)

[eightiesfan]

Sony M-80 (1982)

[timeapoortenant]

Been a while. Got a new phone, lost all my damn passwords haha

[timeapoortenant]

You'll taste like pop rocks and the dying hope of a scattered species.

Wil has sat bolt upright in his recliner, the only light in his house a dim warm lamp at his elbow and the harsh blue of a phone screen held in a white-knuckled hand. He can feel his form screaming to flee from a constraining human body, even as it seems he’s sitting in complete stillness.

The lightbulb in the lamp whines, brightens to an unbearable white heat, and explodes.

A long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of bits of glass pattering to the floor. Eyes glinting from the cold light of the phone screen.

He takes a deep breath, and instead of answering, pulls up a message to Jack.

[timeapoortenant]

Do Branelid sleep? Do they dream? Do they have nightmares? Does the thought of a creature who consumes them so completely they'll die forever follow their waking thoughts and shake them in their bones? It's here! The monster is here!

Who the fuck is this

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

Wil watched him, glass eye unfixed. The Banelid’s shoulders were raised and tight as if expecting a blow.

[That’s a neat tactic,] he spat, glowering. [Shiftin responsibility of…of god knows how many lives onto me sayin if I’ll help ya or not. Well put, I’ll give ya that.] He turned to pick up his bag, grinding his teeth. Jack’s words needled into him regardless. Because it was true—the Wyvern /would/ leave, eventually, once it’d had its fill. Go somewhere else and begin the slaughter anew. It’s how it had always been.

He sighed, a long, ragged sound. The oscillating tones from his speaker slowly eased. The radio downstairs clicked off.

[I really only came out here t’help you with your windows,] he said finally. [Didn’t expect…well.] He faced Jack once more, eyeing the larger man with a sharper and less defensive gaze. [I just dunno what you want from me, I guess.]

Jack blustered a breathy laugh. “I– I did not expect it either! I’ve been searching for help with this hunt, anyone that I could trust to…” He trailed off. The silence, now without the warbling scratch of the radio, was shameful. He realized he had started gesturing with his hands and returned them to his side.

“…I should not go after the Wyvern alone. If you are not able to face it, then that is that. I will not continue to pressure you.”

[timeapoortenant]

A dry laugh crackled out of Wil’s speaker. He put his hands up in a sardonic shrug. [Face it? Is that what you wanted t’ask me, if I wanna go fight the damn thing? Jack, I ain’t a monster hunter. I do this.] He gestured at the window frame, at his tool bag. [If you /need/ somethin from me, to help, you gotta say what it is. I ain’t about to volunteer when I’m scared t’death with no idea what t’do about it in the first place.] His expression creased in impatience.

[…You really do act alone on just about everythin, don’t you.] Wind rustled a stray piece of paper on the floor. It picked up and swirled away into a dark corner, silently.

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

[My people–no, we didn’t /fight/!] He sputtered, the speaker cranking into uncomfortably high pitch. [We ain’t had the…we didn’t have weapons, or space travel, or none of the shit you’d need t’fight off a Wyvern. We just existed. Didn’t even know about /corporeal forms/ til I landed on Earth.] 

He glared at Jack, fists balled up at his sides, and a tense silence feel between them. Only the erratic whine from his speaker, like a radio struggling to find a station, and the wind from the open window frame moving past them.

[Look…I just…] He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to try and steady himself. [I didn’t expect t’come here an find out my worst nightmare’s been hidin out right here in Maroa.] When he opened his eyes again, he looked tired, bone tired. [I dunno what I can tell ya that would help. Wyverns need energy, an a lot of it. That’s why they liked comin t’Manifold, I think. All we are is energy, really.]

Jack could hear an old radio from downstairs meet the pitch from Wil’s speaker. The cold wind scraped along his bald head and he finally broke eye contact. Yes, it seemed… Wil was very upset.

He got up, and remembered he was clutching the jar. He made quick steps to the table to replace it and paused. “My friend who wounded it… the Wyvern killed him. I was not there to protect him.” He turned halfway to look at Wil during his final plea. “I understand it does not compare to losing hundreds of people, but… I would at least like to say I know how devastating the Wyvern can be. I don’t want it leaving this planet to destroy more.”

[timeapoortenant]

Wil watched him, glass eye unfixed. The Banelid’s shoulders were raised and tight as if expecting a blow.

[That’s a neat tactic,] he spat, glowering. [Shiftin responsibility of…of god knows how many lives onto me sayin if I’ll help ya or not. Well put, I’ll give ya that.] He turned to pick up his bag, grinding his teeth. Jack’s words needled into him regardless. Because it was true—the Wyvern /would/ leave, eventually, once it’d had its fill. Go somewhere else and begin the slaughter anew. It’s how it had always been.

He sighed, a long, ragged sound. The oscillating tones from his speaker slowly eased. The radio downstairs clicked off.

[I really only came out here t’help you with your windows,] he said finally. [Didn’t expect…well.] He faced Jack once more, eyeing the larger man with a sharper and less defensive gaze. [I just dunno what you want from me, I guess.]

[timeapoortenant]

izolat​:

Jack stayed where he was on the ground and listened. Wil’s rising panic didn’t seem to register. He followed him with an intent stare, trying to pick up any new information he could use, the hunter in him rapidly turning the situation to his favor. A witness. Another step closer. Vengeance!

“But your people–did they fight? Was there anything you learned from it?” he asked in a rush. “This is proof it can be stopped. You can help!”

[My people--no, we didn’t /fight/!] He sputtered, the speaker cranking into uncomfortably high pitch. [We ain’t had the...we didn’t have weapons, or space travel, or none of the shit you’d need t’fight off a Wyvern. We just existed. Didn’t even know about /corporeal forms/ til I landed on Earth.] 

He glared at Jack, fists balled up at his sides, and a tense silence feel between them. Only the erratic whine from his speaker, like a radio struggling to find a station, and the wind from the open window frame moving past them.

[Look...I just...] He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to try and steady himself. [I didn’t expect t’come here an find out my worst nightmare’s been hidin out right here in Maroa.] When he opened his eyes again, he looked tired, bone tired. [I dunno what I can tell ya that would help. Wyverns need energy, an a lot of it. That’s why they liked comin t’Manifold, I think. All we are is energy, really.]

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

Wil had been busying himself propping the frame up against the wall until Jack mentioned a ‘Wyvern.’ He stopped, still as stone, head slightly bowed. A long silent moment passed before he turned around to see what Jack was showing him. 

His expression was dark, tense to brittleness, and the tiny shred of hope he’d held that he’d misheard or that Jack was surely talking about something else…was shattered at the sight of that single glimmering scale. He did not look more closely at it.

Somewhere in Jack’s house, a television crackled, a radio switched stations. [You found that. Here, on Earth. From a Wyvern.] His speaker crackled, a dull whine building just at the edge of hearing. [That…that ain’t possible. You had a real…if one was here, people’d be dyin. Everywhere. You seen it? You even know what they look like?] A definite edge of panic crept into his voice. The window was completely forgotten. Wil felt as if he was seeing through a tunnel, vision constricted as if someone had slammed him over the head. 

[If one’s made it to earth, you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. Ain’t none of us do.]

Jack had shown his prized (and resented) scale with a little bit of pride. It was supposed to be a talking point, man to man, of what kept him in Maroa and the skills he had to offer to Wil and his friends. (That had gone well with Emmett…)

But that gentle enthusiasm wilted and shuffled itself under a carpet as he watched Wilmore’s face. Oh, dear.

“It’s wounded,” he said, with a tinge of hesitancy. “I knew someone, a friend–another hunter. He faced it alone and nearly killed it. It can no longer fly but I know it must be healing, I believe it’s confining itself to the woods.”

Jack blinked. Still brandishing the jar, he eased onto his knee next to Wil, meeting his eyes. “What do you know about the Wyvern?”

[timeapoortenant]

Wil shook his head, putting up his hands and at first moving away from the other man, moving to his bag and shoving things back into it with hands gone uncharacteristically unsteady. He realized that a hitch had come into his breath, and that the phone in his pocket was letting out a dull quiet noise like rushing water.

He stopped, fists white-knuckled on his knees. Took a deep breath. Got up.

[I dunno about /this/ Wyvern, but s’far as I know, they’re all alike. They used to…to come to Manifold.] He averted his glance from Jack, jaw tight. [Once in a real great while, but we remember em all. T’feed.] He took his hat off, hair standing out at odds, and used it to gesture around him as if at a loss. [That’s /allthey do./ Consume an destroy. One of the only things could kill my folk. Erase us altogether.] He crammed the hat back onto his head. [What I /know/ is you got your goddamn work cut out for ya if one’s come to Earth. Just got…a fuckin WYVERN scale in a goddamn Smucker’s jar. Jesus Christ.]

[timeapoortenant]

izolat​:

“It has treated me well. I’m rarely bothered and it makes travel simple. Charlie has mentioned I’m a hunter, hasn’t she?” Jack returned Wil’s look; he felt the dangerous balancing game of casual confidence he carried himself with. Ambivalence toward the rebellion’s cause might be more offensive than direct opposition.

But because Wil had asked… he held up a finger and turned heel. “Maroa was a chance stop, however… It seems fate lead me here for a reason.”

Jack went to the tool table against the near wall. There were open journal laid on it and a map of the woodland park tacked overhead, covered in pencil marks. The centerpiece of the display was a small glass jar, which he gingerly lifted and held out for Wil to see. Sitting at the bottom was a large iridescent scale.

“Decades ago I encountered this creature known as the Wyvern. It seems to be here, now, still healing. I have been spreading warnings to anyone who will listen.”

Wil had been busying himself propping the frame up against the wall until Jack mentioned a ‘Wyvern.’ He stopped, still as stone, head slightly bowed. A long silent moment passed before he turned around to see what Jack was showing him. 

His expression was dark, tense to brittleness, and the tiny shred of hope he’d held that he’d misheard or that Jack was surely talking about something else...was shattered at the sight of that single glimmering scale. He did not look more closely at it.

Somewhere in Jack’s house, a television crackled, a radio switched stations. [You found that. Here, on Earth. From a Wyvern.] His speaker crackled, a dull whine building just at the edge of hearing. [That...that ain’t possible. You had a real...if one was here, people’d be dyin. Everywhere. You seen it? You even know what they look like?] A definite edge of panic crept into his voice. The window was completely forgotten. Wil felt as if he was seeing through a tunnel, vision constricted as if someone had slammed him over the head. 

[If one’s made it to earth, you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell. Ain’t none of us do.]

[timeapoortenant]

izolat​:

He made a thoughtful noise, something deep from his chest. “What part? Resisting the Regulators? It’s only been a couple decades since they have been persistent problems. I see them like gnats… I’m sure I should take them more seriously, it’s difficult to break out of long-held opinions.” He glanced at the open window. “You shelter people too. I can’t say I’ve lived a very righteous life. Solitary. I’ve traveled the world all on my own. Charlie has tried to woo me into the cause, but I don’t think I am a good match for it.”

[Yeah, you probably should.] Wil leaned back on his knees to survey his work. The glazing looked secure... it would just need to set before being placed back into the window casing.

[...An how has that treated ya? The solitary life, I mean.] Wil glanced up at the other man while he put a cap on the glazing compound.

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

[Hmmm. Proper reasons….that’s pretty subjective, doncha think?] He grinned to himself as he brushed crumbled glazing away from each pane, feeling around with his free hand for the tube of new material to work with. [Anyway—I wouldn’t worry. Glass houses n all that. Charlie needs folks lookin out for her as much as she needs t’ look after herself. Even if she don’t realize it or thinks she needs it.]

“Perhaps. I think she trusts herself before she trusts anyone else. That is why she was so insistent on me teaching her how to fight.” Jack approached and knocked the tube toward Wil’s hand with his boot. He gazed down at him. “She’s mentioned to me some things about your group. Nothing too in detail, I imagine the secrecy is important. It means a lot to her.”

[timeapoortenant]

[It’s hard, t’try an be so alone all the time. You think you’re keepin other folks safe...but you ain’t exactly. Just keepin em in the dark.] Each pane was carefully reglazed, patiently, with a practiced hand. Wil’s hands were remarkably steady--especially given they weren’t really his.

[Hmm. You seem the type t’keep a good secret. But I’ll leave it up to her what she wants to share.] He shrugged loosely. [The group means a lot to a lot of folks. Not least of all me. You uh...ever interested in that sorta thing, Jack?]

[timeapoortenant]

Father's Day

Emmett shows up in the morning with a bouquet of sunflowers and a cute little wrapped box, inviting Wilmore out to breakfast. There's no 'Father's Day' car, Emm still a little uncomfortable making some assumptions more than an occasional line they could pass off as a joke, but it's kind of obvious what this is.

In the box are Emmett's attempts at little wooden fishing lures. The cuts are kind of blocky despite copious sanding and refining, the paint lines a bit confusing (what fish is that? uhh a crab wiggler?) and it's not clear how well they'll actually do in the water. They are aware of this, but also it seems like, well, something for Father's Day should be handmade.

—

Wil has forgotten all about it being Father’s Day, never having had any reason to celebrate it himself. He figures it out once he opens the box, surprised until he realizes what they are.

Then he isn’t ashamed to tear up in the restaurant, and immediately tells them that a fishing trip is the next activity for the day.

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

[That you’re helpin her train t’fight, mostly. Charlie needs it, with all she’s had goin on…it’s good of you.] He set the frame down and looked at it pensively. A cold breeze poured in from the empty window, rustling in dark corners of the room.

[…Anyway. Nothin embarrassing, if that’s what you’re worried about!] A soft laugh hissed out of his speaker as he knelt and got to work scraping out the old glazing.

He returned a polite huff. Jack tilted his head, letting a beat of silence pass between them. “I do not have a glowing reputation with everyone of your circle. Charlie seemed to understand my position, but I sometimes think she is too like me for her own good. Self-righteous. For the proper reasons, of course.”

[timeapoortenant]

[Hmmm. Proper reasons….that’s pretty subjective, doncha think?] He grinned to himself as he brushed crumbled glazing away from each pane, feeling around with his free hand for the tube of new material to work with. [Anyway—I wouldn’t worry. Glass houses n all that. Charlie needs folks lookin out for her as much as she needs t’ look after herself. Even if she don’t realize it or thinks she needs it.]

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

Wil nodded and started taking the frame out of the window, careful not to break any glass. The panes were old and warped, but still good.

[Oh yeah? Charlie mentions you now an then. Sorry, didn’t realize you liked your own space. Really need t’talk to Cora about this…]

Jack snorted. “No need. I have known Cora for centuries, she has simply always been like this. I imagine she might think this is good for me.” He crossed his arms, now taking his turn to watch Wil.

“So Charlie has mentioned me? Good things, bad things?”

[timeapoortenant]

[That you’re helpin her train t’fight, mostly. Charlie needs it, with all she’s had goin on…it’s good of you.] He set the frame down and looked at it pensively. A cold breeze poured in from the empty window, rustling in dark corners of the room.

[…Anyway. Nothin embarrassing, if that’s what you’re worried about!] A soft laugh hissed out of his speaker as he knelt and got to work scraping out the old glazing.

[izolat]

timeapoortenant​:

Wil’s eyebrows quirked up as he watched Jack dismantle board after board with his bare hands. As the larger man slung nails and clunked wood against the floor, he reached up and scratched his head under his cap. [Huh. Well, can’t be any less fire safe than the last barricade.] He grinned and shook his head as he moved back to the window to look.

[Yeah, gonna need to re-glaze the panes. I can just do the ones in this room if you want, make it a snug spot. Or show you how t’do it yourself if you want me out of your hair…] So to speak.

“This room is most important. I think I should learn from you, so I can at least take care of myself.” Jack made a pile of the old wood in a corner and dusted his hands off. “I don’t mind the company. It was time we met.”

[timeapoortenant]

Wil nodded and started taking the frame out of the window, careful not to break any glass. The panes were old and warped, but still good.

[Oh yeah? Charlie mentions you now an then. Sorry, didn’t realize you liked your own space. Really need t’talk to Cora about this…]

[lornaa]

timeapoortenant​:

A series of tiny white flickers of surprise danced across Wil’s form. His eyes blinked.

[…Well.] He said finally, as his body wavered and shimmered in thought, [First off, this is all hypothetical. Not incriminatin myself by answering this, right?] The one ‘good’ eye flared suspiciously before he continued. [But first I’d make a contact with someone who could help me once I jump ship. Make sure I had somewhere t’land if I decided to go through with it.] He straightened, taller in this form than in his human shell.

[Hypothetically.]

Lorna held on to each word. She tried not to feel too proud of herself, that she’d done just that (that the one smart thing she’d done was protect herself wasn’t lost on her). Gardner was her contact, and Valsur would let her hide at his place. 

“It’s a hypothetical. Thanks, anyway, it’s. Food for thought.” She breathed in, finally looking over his noncorporeal form properly. Pretty. She wished she could tell him so.

In another life, maybe she had.

“That’s all I had. Thank you for your time, Wilmore.”

[timeapoortenant]

He caught the softening of her shoulders, the way her brows smoothed just for an instant, as if he’d told her something she wanted to hear.

Well. Certainly full of surprises, this one.

Wil just grumbled in response, stepping back and then back into his human body. His arms twitched and me muttered as he stood back up, cracking his neck. [Yeah, yeah. Not like I get much say anyway.] But he stopped himself from continuing to grumble, stopped even from abruptly showing her the door the way he might normally have done.

[One more thing,] he said slowly, gaze level. [If someone really means t’change themselves—I mean REALLY change it—they oughta know it’s worth it. Not just for everyone else.]

The speaker crackled but he shook his head, no longer sure of his words. Then he really did stride past her, quietly, and pull the door open for her to leave.