Endgame

[idolpro]

Who: You lot
Where: Game Tower
When: Day 155, sunset

[ The house is silent; you awaken in your starter rooms, with injuries healed and the gripping hold of possession released as though it were all a dream.

It wasn't though, was it? The scars that remain, whether physical or emotional, are proof of that. If you need more proof, well - when the elevator opens for you once more, to take you back down to ground level, you'll find you can carry whatever is on your person back down with you as souvenirs, although their effects don't carry over.

Once you take the elevator down, you'll find most everyone else there too - most everyone, anyway. Some are missing, and . . . well, the doors to the outside aren't opening to let anyone out, although non-participants may enter to fret over their loved ones.

Soon enough, once the last elevators go down, the doors will unlock and you'll be free to hurry home, as the last rays of the sun disappear behind the skyline. Night is coming once more. ]

Comments

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[He crouches down in front of him and everything he was going to say just dies in his throat as he is doing the mental inventory of all those scars.

He looks so much worse than the last time he saw him.






What. the. fuck?]

[puzzlekeeper]

[ He outright flinches back when Intensity crouches in front of him.





But then he realizes who is is and his hands shoot out, digging into whatever he can reach. Reeling him in with a vice grip, head bowed. ]

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[Jesus, King.

He is easily pulled in, arms wrapping around King on instinct (though he does have presence of mind to not dig into the side with the scar).

And he's just going to hold him there, King's head tucked against his chest so that he doesn't have to pay attention to what else is going on in the room]

[puzzlekeeper]

[ Cool cool cool. Thanks pal. Be patient with him for a few moments, then.

He relaxes somewhat when those arms box him in, sucking in a harsh, tremulous breath and not releasing his grip.

His eyes are dry, though. He never learned how to cry and he never will. ]

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[What would he even do if King cried? It would probably not be pleasant to anyone involved. That's what.

But giving King the space to regain his composure is something he can do, so he waits until King collects himself.

As long as is necessary.]

[puzzlekeeper]

[ We are all spared this day!

It takes much longer than usual, but eventually - as usual, as always - he leans back slightly, expression very carefully (almost painfully) controlled. ]

Sorry.

[ He's not releasing his hold, though. ]

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

I don't know what that's for and I also don't particularly don't care.

You've done nothing to me since last we spoke for that to be necessary.

[Except die.

Which for one glorious time, Intensity is not blaming on King. Enjoy that.]

[puzzlekeeper]

[ Just lets out a short breath that doesn't have the energy behind it to be a huff. ]

Fine.

[ Looking up at him properly. ]

Did you make it through?

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[Sanity break just put him in a coma, so he can say "honestly":]

I didn't die if that's what you're asking.

...

[Glancing at the scars around his heart. His side.]

How many times?

[puzzlekeeper]

[ His fingers flex against him - a sign of relief, maybe - but the response comes after some delay. ]

Seven.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[His grip on King tightens that much more]

Seven?! Are you fucking---

[puzzlekeeper]

I must be a fan favorite.

[ So fucking dry. ]

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[The sound that comes out of Intensity at that is... displeased. Yes. Let's just go with displeased.]

Right.

Fan favorite.

And apparently an idol favorite, too.

[puzzlekeeper]

[ ...

He leans back in, forehead pressed against his chest. Fingers holding on in a grip that might be described as clinging, though he would vehemently refute that. ]

It doesn't matter now.

I'm still alive.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

You don't get to say that after what you said when you---

You can't pretend like it doesn't matter.

[puzzlekeeper]

[ ...?

That's unexpected enough to earn a long silence. ]

... And here I assumed you would be the first to tell me a game is a game.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

That has nothing to do with the game!

[puzzlekeeper]

[ ??? Intensifies.

But - he doesn't want to risk it turning into an argument he has zero energy for, so... ]

...

Fine. I guess it does matter somewhat.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[If there was any clear indicator of how beaten down King is. There is it. In bright flashing neon lights.

(As if his general everything didn't also give it away. But Intensity is also emotionally incompetent and now the reality of the situation is really sinking in.)]

. . .





How do I fix this?

[puzzlekeeper]

[ Leans back to stare at him, utterly bewildered now. ]




What?

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[Gestures at King's EVERYTHING]

How do I fix this?

[puzzlekeeper]

[ He manages to look offended as hell. That's something? ]

I don't need fixing, like one of your broken gadgets.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[That's something.]

That's not what I meant!

[What did he mean?

Maybe even Intensity doesn't know]

[puzzlekeeper]

It better not be.

I'll be fine.

[bluescreenwhitedragon]

[You are absolutely not fine, but he doesn't have the emotional vocabulary to navigate this, so.

So---!

Just huffs his assent and pulls him closer.

Words are stupid.]