divinetree | Charlie & Vox

What could possibly look nice about an unwieldy square head?? He was a LOOKER, Charlie! He was a damn good-looking god of entertainment! Oh, how he'll miss his hair, his glasses (pain in the ass though they were to keep clean and adjust, people sometimes just dug a guy in specs)...

But surely the news was likely talking at length about his death. There would be vigils, he'd bet, but he wouldn't know until he found a way to get broadcasts from earth. He could show Charlie some pictures, too!

Okay. Okay, one goal at a time, guy.

Older Sinners... maybe. If they don't try to break me again. Maybe you know some Sinners that would be open to talking rather than looking to fight?

Well!! It's kinda cute, he's got a great big eye so he'll probably have great big eyes, really charming...!!

The question had her humming in thought, though. Hmmm...

"Well, there was-- err, no... he tried to attack mom, never mind... oh, maybe-- shoot, no, she got caught stealing from dad... uhh... he was pretty rude and not helpful... he's a gangster now... uhh..."

UHHHH...

"O-okay, well, just because I don't know very many Sinners that'd be good at giving advice doesn't mean that they aren't out there! I'm still a little new to the whole... helping Sinners directly thing..." she admitted, fiddling with her fingers. Whoops. She... knew a lot of Hellborn! Dated one for a while, even! ...But she wanted to represent all of her people.

...Even if the ones she's invited in haven't... had... the best track record.

The bar for Vincent's behavior here is, quite literally, in Hell.

"But just take my dad's advice! 'You don't take shit from other demons...!'" Charlie attempted, voice dropped low to imitate her dad's tone. But it rang a little hollow, because it sounds like she let Demons take advantage plenty...

Vox shook a bit with a laugh, but with his voice box still in repairs, Charlie could have a few jumbled pips of static instead. Was that was the guy sounded like...? But what she'd said about him wasn't encouraging. Still, he was nothing if not the curious sort, even if he wagered his best shot was speaking with the Queen.

I'm a decent enough judge of character. Statistically there has to be at least ONE Sinner who is up for talking.

A small fry, maybe. Someone who had too much to lose to pick a fight. Definitely nobody that had a ton of power at their fingertips who could flick him away like a flea for bothering them. Perhaps the bars would be the best spot... small fry demons, slightly intoxicated, likely wouldn't remember him after. Open to a little smooth talk.

Just- not when I look like this. I should take it easy and start fresh tomorrow, if that's no trouble. I've taken enough of your time!

"A day, maybe two-- as long as you need! Especially with your head injury, that one... uh, well, eheh. I think things will be way easier when your face is back in working order. And not hurting! Are you sure you don't want any painkillers...?"

Scratching the open brain was a little. A lot. Hard to see, earlier.

He opened his arms amicably, an old habit from his showman days... of... less than 24 hours ago.

Ar3 y0u kidding? I feel great! But A f3ew wouldn't hvrt.

"Great! And it'll help with sleep, too - everyone heals faster when they can sleep it off, right? Say, Ra--oh!"

The imp servant had already returned, a bottle of tonic in his hands, cradled by a clean cloth as if it were fine wine. He offered it to the Princess. "A teacup's worth and no more, highness."

"Got it! We'll fluff up the couch cushions and I'll get a little side room set up too - you just relax and focus on feeling better," Charlie insisted, pouring out a dense, dark liquid into an empty teacup. It was a bit menacing, but... at least promised potential relief?

Ohhh, it was getting a little harder to stick around mentally. He could feel things piecing together, but there was the occasional little scrape and rub against something that felt... weird, pleasurable, but awful at the same time somehow. Was it his brain? He wasn't sure. But it was something rubbing around in his head that was sending alarm sparks.

...Okay, nevermind: That TONIC sent alarm sparks. That looked like something in the old bottles his parents kept in the cabinet when he was a kid, wondering what it was. He could remember taking it, opening it up and sneaking a smell. He could remember the smell practically burning his nose hair.

Oh y0u weren't kidding about being 'behind' on th1ngs...

"It'll be fiiiiine - it just tastes pretty gnarly, that's all! I took this last time I broke my foot, so hey, I definitely know it'll work like a charm!"

Hard to be miserable during the healing process when you were either dead asleep or high as a kite!

Well, he was already dead, so... he couldn't get much deader, could he? If the princess of hell could get herself fucked up on the old laud, then maybe he should be able to handle the sheer amount that sat in the cup. Whoosh.

Maybe since he was pretty good at holding his liquor, he could handle this and enjoy a little buzz at the same time. Today definitely called for getting high.

I've h4d my mother's c0oking. I can handle anyth1ng.

"That's the spirit! I'll handle the rest!"

Liiiiike making sure her mom knows when she's back, and getting the usual Reminder Lecture of not being naive, don't let them take anything, it's your responsibility to keep them safe, et cetera......

"This'll be great!!"

Well... down the hatch! He may as well get it over with fast and chase that dragon, huh? After a breath to steel himself, he slugged it like an oversized shot.

Don't be weak. Don't be weak.

A big gulp. A shudder. ffffffFUCK, that's awful. Just like gramps used to make when he had bad aches.

He underestimated. Oh, did he underESTIMATE- the strength of drugs here in Hell was meant to be effective toward superhuman beings and immortals. But Vincent- Vox- was a heavily injured... something or another. Soon his head was giving the soft tone of the Emergency Broadcast System, and he swayed a bit in his seat.

th4t wasnt s0 ba4a'ad

He braced a hand to a knee. It'll keep him from floating, surely. Because he was starting to float, right??

"Yep! You'll be out in no time - here, you can nap on the chaise over here," she hopped up to gently take him by the elbow, intending to guide him and help him lay down. "I'll be here when you wake back up! Sleep well, Vox! Hopefully the dreams aren't tooooo crazy."

He blinked too slowly to be natural and could hardly feel the touch to the elbow right away. Vox fought to focus on the feel of his shoes on the floor, putting one foot in front of the other until they reached the chaise.

The system tone faded, hissed with static. With the sway of his cord tail and a rock of his upper body, he felt himself sailing along fast. His speakers shared a tune that popped into his head. Were he to try any moment of the routine, he'd definitely take a spill, probably damage his frame even more.

Once safe, butt planted upon the cushions, her well wish was answered with a salute. How could he have crazy dreams?? Nooooo... it was Gene Kelly time!

When he tipped back and passed out, the music continued to play, coupled with the sound of rain.

Perfect!! What a charming, fun guy... whatever he did wrong, maybe there was a way for him to turn a new leaf.

Charlie made sure to tuck a blanket over him before going and helping Razzle and Dazzle set up a guest room - hopefully regeneration would only take a day or two, but whether it did or not, he'd have somewhere safe to get back on his feet. Maybe... having a place that was safe for new Sinners would be good. A place where people can get their footing and... try to be better? Make friends, get to know each other? Something like that...

Yeah, like a place to check in, just passin' through...! There's gotta be a place like that, right?

The weight of the blanket had his antennae twitch, but the music continued uninterrupted, playing its way through. In his mind, he was stomping in puddles and celebrating a pain-free time. The rain was so cool and fresh on his face, and he was on top of the world. He could jump and float, tapping his way down a random sidewalk he didn't recognize. He ran claw-less fingers along a window displaying televisions for sale, running long lines through the silvery droplets that gathered on the glass.

The music faded to the outside world, but in his mind it'd never end.

He encountered a woman in a long red coat and a charming bucket hat, grasping it tight and huddled under an awning. Vin...cent...? Produced his dark blue umbrella and flipped it open, gesturing to her. Though he was soaked down to his hair and glasses, too foolish to bother with what he'd thought to bring for the weather, he shielded the red-eyed girl he fought to recognize. They danced down the sidewalk together under the nylon dome of the umbrella, twirling and laughing. Drugs!!!

But the further down the way they went, the more he couldn't help but notice... a sound. The white noise of the rain was gradually drowned out by a new rushing sound, like a station of some kind that couldn't quite tune into something. It began to fill his head, even when he shook it off and fought to keep dancing.

The sound grew. There was so much more. Every alleyway passed by was impossibly dark, some dotted with glowing red eyes, strange symbols. Vincent ignored them- he had to get the lady home! what's- what's her name? Boy, he'd never met anyone with eyes quite like hers, gold and red... he had weird eyes too, so that was okay--

His foot caught on something and he stumbled. He looked back when he caught himself. The ground was... sticky somehow. Weird. Weird!! He opened his mouth to warn the girl to watch her step, but when he blinked, the smiling young woman was gone.

Vincent paused and looked around. The music was gone. There was just static. The shadows grew longer. Longer. His heart started to race. What was... what was happening...???

A sharp clap of thunder, a rush of lightning set him on a fight or flight response. He turned, the umbrella abandoned, and ran through the streets. The shadows followed, lapping almost playfully at his heels.

Run.
Run.
Run.
RUN.

The damp air tore through his lungs as he found it harder and harder to breathe. He looked for someone, anyone, and found he was alone. The city had grown muted.

Keep running.
KEEP RUNNING.

A shoe scuffed, caught the curb of a sidewalk and sent him sprawling. He felt things grabbing at his legs and thrashed, pulled himself to his feet. He didn't look back as he sped on.

Keep running...
Keep... keep running...
Leave me alone. Leave me ALONE. LEAVE ME ALONE...

In the meantime, Charlie kept up with her goals, just...

Well, even if her mom didn't dissuade her from helping Sinners like Vox here, getting the intense don't forget to pay attention to him or good or ill, he was human - make sure he doesn't take advantage of your good will, or other warnings... it always made her feel awkward, overly scrutinized, and leered at.

Hearing her dad scoff openly at his presence and say if he causes ANY trouble for you or your mother, I'm bootin' him halfway across the pentagram! and ramble on how sucky Sinners were...

Well.

Whatever-- she's an adult, now, she didn't necessarily need to get complete approval from her parents anyway...! Vox seemed fine, he was hurt and scared-- and that's that!!

(It was never that's that. It always bothered her.)

Vox seemed to sleep straight through dinner, but that's okay... that meant he was healing up, probably. Dazzle took to dozing next to him on the back of the lounge so he'd be there if something went sideways. Really, Charlie just kept finding her mind wandering back to him hurt and scared, both technology and... meat...

Right after dinner she hurried back, fresh bandages in hand, hoping to change them out on her guest... and she paused, seeing him sweating and trembling in his sleep. Gently, she touched his shoulder.

"Vox...?"

Where was everybody? Didn't he have people? So many people... they were looking up to him, and they... they left him? They LEFT him, didn't warn him of something falling to strike him!

The city that stretched endlessly on was growing darker, darker, but he couldn't look back. He knew those things were still after him. His sprint had turned into a desperate clamoring, hands reaching out to catch light poles and brick walls, keep himself upright as he moved.

With the world too dark to see, Vincent struck a wall, felt pain explode through his face, his head. He heard something like glass breaking, felt something warm running down but he palpated the obstacle in front of him. He couldn't stop, not now, not when things were after him. Where was everyone?

Somebody?

Anybody!?

The shadows caught up, he was sure of it. They burned when they grabbed his legs and crawled their way up. They slithered up his body, poking and prodding, and he couldn't stop shaking. They crawled up his chest and neck, over his ears. They shut his panting mouth to keep them from working their way inside, but they clogged his nose. He couldn't breathe--

Vox's uncovered eye flew open, solid white against black. His scream was static-y garbage noise as he clawed at his face, trying to wrench off something that was covering it, smothering him. Shadows, dark things-

Lights? Lights. Gold and red. Red and gold. He was still as a statue, staring through Charlie, triangular pupil quivering. But slowly that eye focused. Focused.

"...Charlie?..." Speech. His voice was dry and thin, but... speech!

"It's me," Charlie replied immediately, though guilt was all over her face. Oh no... that must've been her fault, it's just... she just didn't want him to be uncomfortable and in pain all night...!

But whatever happened, he was here now, and...

"You're safe, it's okay-- I think you were having a nightmare," she murmured apologetically, resting her hand on his face where a forehead ought to be. It was strange, how he sweated... had condensation? Something-- it was damp, either way. "You're safe, here... just catch your breath."

His heart beat hard enough that he wondered if it could be heard, all but trying to claw its way through his ribs, or... whatever the fuck he had now.

His head felt like it was underwater, floating, and he still felt no pain aside from the ache of his muscles spasming and tightening in response to the all-out running he'd been doing in his mind. Nightmare... he had a nightmare... what was on his head?? Right... that is his head, now... it was broken...

His breaths, shallow gulps for air, slowed gradually. Okay, no wonder they made the stuff suuuper illegal.

"...Sorry," he managed, swallowed. "Damn, I... I don't usually have nightmares. First time for everything, right?..."

Another breath. Okay. He was okay. C'mon, you're a television legend. get your shit together.

"What- what time is it?" When everything was red as it ever was, it was pretty hard to get a sense of time already.

Charlie & Vox

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