crushed_pearls | Come Sail Away IC Inbox

"I mean, I guess you've kinda gotta be if you're an autocannibal!"

Gil's voice has stayed remarkably even and flat like, the entire time he's been here and not flipping out; but here and now there's a lilt to his tone that suggests he is Not Okay.

"Just roll out the other side of Hannibal Lecter-hood and be a chill-ass motherfucker about it!"

"Gil, buddy, what is it you're objecting to here?" Erin's tone is soft and concerned. "...Yeah, he's a monster. And probably technically a serial killer. But we're all monsters here at this table, aren't we? And if we're not gonna look out for each other, who's gonna?"

"Maybe I don't wanna fucking eat people, Erin!" The words come out as a snarl, his ears flicking back in an open distress only she can really appreciate. "Maybe I don't wanna make a fucking game out of the fact I am literally starving myself, constantly, because some guy who is somehow--" and his voice cracks there, into a bark of laughter that mangles the word. "--more fucked up than us, thinks it's okay! I don't wanna be in another fucking Durance where I have to suck up to another fucking Keeper who's apparently nice now because he's getting laid and kills us less like it's a fucking achievement!"

Erin's quiet for awhile after that one. She leans back in her chair and listens to all of it, and says nothing for long minutes.

In a soft voice: "You want the Spring bitch or a friend here, Gil? It's not like I'm without sympathy for your situation, but."

But.

He can feel his heart thumping in his ears, shoved up there by the way his stomach's lodged in his throat and he can't decide whether to laugh or cry or just vomit, and his breaths feel thick and rough in his throat.

He's not hungry anymore. Which is a bald-faced lie because he's always hungry and there's no way to fix it without sending himself into a fucking self-destructive spiral. And yet he's still not hungry.

"The Spring bitch I fully expect to tell me to suck it up, princess, spare a thought for all the fuckers who haven't done a Durance before," he rumbles, folding his arms across his chest as he leans back in his chair. "You've got the home court advantage."

"...No. And if that's the state of Australia's Spring I'm heading there after we all escape to kick some asses concave. See if they can stop me." Erin sighs heavily and puts an elbow on the table, gesturing with that hand. "I'm not gonna argue about the Captain's nature other than to say you should meet the man himself before you write him off - keeping in mind that he hates me personally, so it ain't like I'm speaking from a deep well of affection here. But here's the long and short of it as I see it. You're not in a position to fix being an obligate cannibal right now, not without access to the Deep Hedge where the Wyrd curdles like milk and turns into something feral and unshackled from the nightmare lands. Even if you were, that's not a certainty of a solution. So you can either make yourself miserable on purpose, or have a small amount of comfort."

"...I'm not suggesting you talk to Siffleur because I see two inhuman things who ought to get on. I'm suggesting you talk to him because he's been a true and steady friend to me, and I think he'd be to you too. I'm deeply sorry about the sandpaper dildo that is currently your life but do you really gotta up the roughage?"

"Because 'Meet Siffleur, he's running his homegrown Ikea Hunger Games, don't worry, it's totally voluntary, also he cuts off hunks of himself for fun and fucking profit' is a ringing fucking endorsement of friendship," he retorts flatly.

Erin presses her hands together as if praying for the strength to endure this conversation. "He's a difficult man to describe, Gil. I find it's best if people get their first impression from the cat himself instead of trying to stumble through it. He's..." There's a long trailing. "...He's at peace, with himself. It's a unique experience, being near that."

He doesn't miss the mood behind that action, and his ears flick to a somewhat upset pose. At himself, not her, but still.

"Sure." His turn to rub his face with one hand again. "Look, I..."

He snorts, an annoyed huff as he tries to find the words. "Jesus Christ, I don't know. I thought I was okay with all of this bullshit, then this morning happened and I feel like I'm back on Day One. I'm not- handling this well. And it fucking sucks."

"This isn't the nightmare lands," Erin answers softly, setting her hands back on the table. "And trying to play by those rules is gonna be a losing game. The witch you chose to become hasn't been lost to you. I'm sorry for hurting you by so blithely trying to help. I know that can suck." Ask her what she did the first time someone said she's worthy of love and support, it'll be a riot. "...Not that it's an excuse, but I'm trying to be the Spring I ought to have been the whole time. It's still a new trick for me."

"Yeah, I know." He eyes off the sushi trundling slowly past. "But still."

He looks down at his hands briefly. Still human enough, compared to the rest of him, but there isn't a single part of him that passably resembles his old self. "Obligate cannibal, sure. But I don't- want to. It's. A personal Rule. 'cos I'm... fuck it, sure, I'm scared. That if I get back on the humanitarian diet I won't know how to stop. The only thing I associate the taste with is There, and I don't want to give that any more of a foothold than it's already got."

"...Yeah, that's fair." Erin sighs again. "Siffleur will offer anyway, but he won't go Doctor Lecter about it. He's a bit of a soft hedonist, in love with the opportunity the ship affords him to be his genuine self. Say no and that'll be the end of it."

He sighs, but even that comes out as a soft rumble.

"I appreciate the thought, babe, seriously," he says. "If this was literally anything else I could use the hand with, I'd be taking it with both. That one's the exception. Besides."

He finally reaches out to take a new plate of sushi. "Two years cold turkey. Hasn't killed me yet, and I prefer the devil I know."

Edited 2023-03-15 05:27 (UTC)

"God damn dude. Congratulations." Erin resumes her own grazing; it feels to her like something has cleared in the air. "...You talk to the skeleton yet? I don't think he'll turn down someone with practice in magical thinking, and for my money he's probably our best shot at getting out alive."

"Unless there's another skeleton than Skulduggery, which, first of all- goddamn it, dude, seriously." He's heard less on-the-nose names from baby Changelings. "But no, uh. I think I might’ve wandered into his memory, but I haven't actually talked to him. How up to date is he on us, if I have to do a deep-dive?"

"I've hardly given him the deep dive. Dunno if he gets on with Ossie or Giles." A grin creeps up on Erin's face. "I do know his name was Skulduggery back when he had meat on his bones, and I curse you with knowing it now too."

That gets a broad, disbelieving grin. "Thanks, I fucking hate it."

He pauses with a seaweed cone thing raised halfway to his mouth.

"...should we, like. Get the others together and have a proper pow-wow or what the fuck ever, see if we can't try and get everyone on the same page? Might be good for the kid to see the adults sorting out the issue."

"...Okie needs to know first," Erin says softly. "He's the only one who doesn't. And I'm not...I am legitimately not sure if I should tell him myself. He's already terrified of me."

He pauses again, but this time he just stares at Erin for a few long seconds.

"...what part doesn't Okie know?" It's a legitimate and suddenly very concerned question.

"The privateer part. Which would also have to be explained since he's never had a Freehold."

He takes a long breath, and lets it out quietly.

"You want me to break the ice on that one for him? I don't. Think he's scared of me. Plus I've got the element spell so his windy shit won't hurt me if he takes it badly."

"...If you're sure you want to tank that hit, I can approach Ossie and Giles and we can all chat if they're down for it." The sound Erin lets out is frustrated. "...I don't want to scare the kid but it's not like it's an unreasonable response. I'm objectively terrifying. I'm shocked that no one's been on my ass for the shapeshifting even if I mainly use it for comedy.'

"Better than him getting the wrong idea and coming after you for it. I can handle elementals, they usually burn out pretty quickly."

Though him defending a known 'traitor' was going to be an interesting conversation regardless.

"I'll leave the lovebirds to you, then. But honestly, like. Best case scenario we've basically got a motley on our hands. Ain't nothing wrong with that, right?"

Erin makes a noncommittal noise. "Depends on how much everyone likes each other's friends I suppose. I've been the friend nobody likes already, dragged into a Motley's business. Now I've got friends that nobody likes. Ain't simple without a siege to live under, you know?"

"I mean, I like you right now," he comments dryly. "And I don't not like Daisy, I just got freaked the fuck out 'cos she broke into my room at five a.m. in the middle of my government assigned panic attack hours and threatened to steal my lunch money. And given how I killed her memory-girlfriend I think we're pretty square."

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