wildestlogs | The Straw That Breaks The Cat's Back

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The Straw That Breaks The Cat's Back

Who: Elle & whoever wants to find her
What: Finally reaching the end of her rope.
Where: Rivendell
When: Day two of being inside the walls
Warnings: Panic attacks, mental breakdowns.

They’re safe.

They don’t need to find their own food water, or shelter anymore. The injured parties are being taken care of. By all accounts, things are the best they’ve been since the group got stuck here in the first place.

Which leaves Elle in a weird place. She’s full of anxious energy and the need to do something. It won’t go away. But they can’t meet with the Green, Elrond is still healing the injured, and there’s no crisis to manage at the moment.

Sometimes Elle pats herself on the back for being relatively well-adjusted. Then times like this come where she can’t handle any amount of downtime and she remembers that she really is incredibly dysfunctional.

On their second day of being actually inside Rivendell she goes through her supplies and catches an all too familiar scent. Her breath stutters and her heart pounds in her ears as she instinctually looks around— but no. The smell is coming from a sprig of Athelas she had put in her belt pouch.

She brings the leaves up to her nose, inhales deeply, and tries not to cry. This has been the longest she’s gone without her pack in… well, since they formed. Every instinctual tug on their pack link is met with an empty silence. But she hasn’t truly sat down and tried to connect, yet. There hasn’t been time.

So maybe…

It’s probably a bad idea, but Elle doesn’t have anything to do with herself and her heart is aching. She wants to be with her pack— her family. Marcus’ scent is overwhelming her senses but he’s not even here.

So Elle finds herself a quiet, hidden-away corner, sits down, and delves deep into her own mind.

She isn’t sure how long it takes. She goes into a semi-meditative state. She’s only just barely aware of her physical form as she’s focused inward, focused on the parts of herself that haven’t known true loneliness in years. On the parts of herself that are bound to the people she holds dearest in the world.

She doesn’t just tug on her pack link, she follows that mental thread as far as it will take her. She's just hoping to find something-- anything. The smallest glimmer of connection that she can hold onto until she gets home.

Then the thread snaps.

Elle barely notices as she’s wrenched back into her body with a gasp. The only thing she can think or feel is alone alone alone alone alonealonealonealonealone—

They’re gone. They're gone.

Dread and fear and grief and nausea fill her gut as sobs wrack through her body. Where before it was an aching absence in the back of her mind, it’s now a painful wound. It feels like a part of her is missing. Like the pain of a phantom limb.

She loses awareness of her surroundings as her whole being focuses on the emptiness inside of her head.

This world doesn’t have the same magic she’s used to. It wasn’t built to sustain things like her. The combination of spirit and flesh aren’t natural to this place, and she can feel it warring inside of her as her spirit tries to connect to something that isn’t there.

She so removed from herself that she barely registers her own quiet screams of grief and pain.

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Dan's aware that his voice isn't exactly pleasant, but he's learned through time that it can be comforting in its flatness, the dim, quiet monotone being not terribly unlike white noise. Something to focus on but not something to be enthralled by, a nice way to break up hard thoughts but not get too agitated by.

That's why he tells Elle about the magic of his world, not because he thinks it's of particular interest to her but because it's something to break up the silence. Silence is a riverbed that can so easily be flooded by loneliness if something else isn't already in there first.

"In my world, magic's old, older than humans, and that means that it's all a matter of earth and plants and music. Did you know that just about every living thing is musical in some way or another? Anyhow, I can't do magic at all - lost the genetic lottery there - but nature herself can still protect me if I use plants as wards. So, there's a sort of ghost where I'm from that walks into folks' dreams, and they slowly drive folks insane from eating their dreams. I had one once, but only for a short while, thank God. The only way to keep them from getting into your head at night is to just go to bed reeking of rose, ginger and verbena."

Which is what the tea smells like.

"The sad part of them ghosts - well, saddest part - is that they don't mean no harm. They're just so wrapped up in their own pain they don't notice they're hurting others. They're not even dead, really, just the spirits of folks unconscious and slowly dying wandering through your head and begging for help."

Elle nods along as Dan speaks to show she's paying attention.

His story reminds him of Wraiths in her world: the dead who are unable to pass on. They usually have some sort of unfinished business that they're still clinging to, and their afterlives are defined by a terrible internal conflict made manifest. They're as tragic as they are dangerous.

She hasn't dealt with many personally, nor has she ventured into the Deadlands where they tend to roam, but she's heard stories.

"Is there a way to help them?" she asks instead.

"A lot of hunters just pull the plug on whatever body's out there lingering. Usually someone in a coma ward. I try to talk to the spirit, get them to realize that they need to move on."

Dan doesn't sound proud of this; there's a troubled look on his face. He doesn't know if it's kinder or not to force someone to acknowledge that they're dead. He doesn't know if asking someone to walk into the dark is any kinder than shoving them there unwillingly, when all is said and done.

"I only been haunted by one, but I've hunted a few of them. Usually they go peaceful, once you get through to them. I...most of them just want someone to hold them, right at the end, or hold their hand. I like to hope that I'm doing right by them. That's what keeps me in the business, the idea that I might could be doing a better job of it than someone else. If it weren't for me, folks would still hunt ghosts, but..."

Dan shrugs. This is sideways from what they originally came here to talk about, but then again, didn't either of them particularly want to talk about Elle's meltdown.

"It's a bad situation and you do the best you can," she summarizes. God, that's fucking familiar.

The water's heating up and there's nothing for Elle to occupy herself with, so she just stands awkwardly while clenching and unclenching her fists. Her skin feels tight in a way that kind of makes her want to claw it off.

(No it doesn't. Elle knows exactly how painful that feels and isn't eager to relive it anytime soon.)

"I try," Dan says with a smile, which fades as he huffs and sighs. "God knows I try."

He tries to think of something else to distract Elle with. He hopes she doesn't try to reach out to her pack in her mind again. There's no good in touching a hot stove twice.

"Since you're in here, can I deputize you into helping me get some things fixed up that I can't do by my lonesome with my busted leg? I got a bunch of patterns for clothing I want to sew, but it's hard to lay out a panel by myself when I can't get up and down. I been hoping to do it for a week now and ain't had the wherewithal."

Elle isn't going to try and reach out to her pack anytime soon, but the pain of the broken connection is still at the forefront of her mind. She quickly latches onto Dan's proposal as a way to distract herself and make herself useful.

"Of course."

Sewing is a skill that Elle, for better and for worse, was made to sink a lot of hours into. It's been a few years, but it doesn't take long for her to get back on the proverbial horse. The process of laying out patterns, weighing them down, and cutting them out is semi-meditative in her current state.

"Alright, so here's what I'm figuring." Dan directs Elle through grabbing the desired panels of fabric from where Dan put them. The elves are gifting them with lovely clothing, but they also decided to donate some sewing materials at Dan's request, from some panels of wool and linen to a restock on needles and thread. "Plenty of the clothing they're giving us is beautiful, but it weren't made to fit big folks like Loken. So I reckoned it'd be better to just make some clothing from scratch with the nice material they done provided us."

He explains the layout for the shirt he's making, which is actually a little bit complicated. Dan grew up sewing a lot of clothing for his younger siblings from scratch, because he and his family could turn straight fabric into something hardier and better-fitting than just buying something out of a store for the same price. Loken's about six times the size of any member of the Sartoris family, but Dan can do the math for sizing it up in his head pretty easily.

He winks at Elle. "Besides, Loken deserves a nice shirt now that he got his first girlfriend."

Elle hasn't met Loken personally, yet, but he's kind of hard to miss. Elle lays out the fabric Dan points her toward and starts making chalk marks on the grain lines as Dan explains it. She doesn't have Dan's eye for measurements, but she's got a lot of knowledge and a (usually) steady hand.

"That's really sweet," she coos. "And Lord knows that we need to get all the clothes we can while we're here."

"I certainly think so." Dan directs Elle's chalk marks while threading some needles. "He and Kerrigan both come from this universe that just...takes everything good there is, and makes war out of it. It's awful. And yet they came out of it with some tenderness, and I think that's..."

It makes Dan feel less alone, as someone who went through hell and came out the other side still soft and vulnerable in so many ways.

"Anyway, you mightn't could have noticed, but giving folks things is the way I express affection. And doing things for them. So you can imagine how much I hate being laid up."

"I'm glad they're here, then." For a lot of people this place is worse than back home. It's sad to hear that it's a marked improvement for others. (Elle honestly couldn't tell you if it was worse than where she comes from. She's trying not to think about it too much.)

"I'm sure Bunny spends half his time sitting on you to make sure you don't overdo it."

It's a gentle tease, since Elle is much the same way. She's not as bad as her pack mates, though, so often times it's her doing the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) sitting.

"He don't sit on me so much as just tries to beat me to it." There's an unspoken and loving competition between Dan and Bunny to do the most things for each other to make their days easier. "He more, um. Tries to provide some perspective when I'm in too deep with all the affection, is more like it."

Because over time, affection becomes actual attachment, and that's when Dan gets scared, and that's when Bunny has to talk him through not bolting or blinding himself with distractions to get away from that fear.

He wouldn't even say all this, especially when Elle's feeling vulnerable, except he's fairly sure Elle already has a decent read on him. "It's difficult for me, getting used to staying in one place socially. Not just running through different groups of people like tissue paper."

Elle nods. It's not the same, but she doesn't spend a lot of time in one place either. She and her pack are always jumping from project to project; networking but rarely making real connections. It's easier to manage what you need to do when you're able to keep yourself focused on the task at hand.

Attachment isn't what scares her, though. She... isn't sure what scares her. Vulnerability? Probably. Vulnerability that she isn't in control of, at least.

"You two are sweet together."

She doesn't have a lot of examples of good adult relationships from the people in her life, so it's nice to see that it's possible even when circumstances are fucked.

"I think it's really admirable that you're willing to work through those difficulties with him," because Dan deserves acknowledgment and credit for getting through things he struggles with. Even when he messes up, he still tries, which shows how important Bunny is to him.

Dan smiles and half-laughs. He suspects Elle has his pegged, but he also isn't about to tell her any of the details of what working through those difficulties has looked like, the benders and the fights and the moments when he and Bunny are so markedly on different pages. He knows, because Elle brought him so many hangover cures in the early afternoons, that Elle can see the ways Dan works through his anxiety about feeling any sort of bond with the people here. It's clumsy, painful work, two steps forward and one step back.

"Thanks. Would you might believe he's the first romantic partner I ever did have?" Not the first carnal partner, although that, too, can be surmised. Dan gets his scissors and starts to cut some fabric along the pattern. "I like to think that it goes to show that you can't never predict the future. Ain't nothing for certain."

Which is a double-sided sentiment; Dan can never be sure that this good thing is going to last, and the only certainty he has is that he'll be devastated if he loses it. So too is it with all these people working their way into his heart, and he sighs without realizing it, because he's ending up there with Elle.

Elle absolutely has Dan's number on some of that. Not the full extent, she simply hasn't been around long enough, but enough to have pretty clear picture.

"For some reason that doesn't shock me," she teases.

She's vaguely aware that Dan struggles with forming attachments. Not the actual forming of the attachment part, but the result. She doesn't know how deep that fear goes, though.

"Can't say I ever thought I'd end up where I was back home." No one could. The Fates themselves still hold a grudge. "Much less here."

She looks out the window.

"But it's not all bad. I mean, it would've been nice if they'd asked before taking us here, and there's a lot of shit going on that we don't know yet but..."

For better or for worse, no one knows her here.

"It's nice to have a clean slate, I guess. And a united, tangible goal."

As much as playing politics is what she's best at, it's been nice to take a break (somewhat). Obviously there's still some level of that, they are a large group, but they're (mostly) not Garou so the interpersonal dynamics are very different. She's not working against toxic, prejudiced, incredibly archaic culture whenever she speaks.

Dan nods. He understands. So many of the people want to go home, here, and Dan certainly has his complaints, but to him this is an adventure he can go on with his husband, his favorite partner in action. It isn't all bad. It's challenging and thrilling and populated by interesting people and places. If not for the fact that he keeps getting sucked into the lives of people here, and that there are other people trying to meddle with his life, it'd be Dan's ideal way to spend the time.

"And something to do." Dan fiddles with the scissors, spinning them in his fingers, unwittingly illustrating that fidgetiness that motivates him in ways large and small. "Reckon most of why I have a career at all is just straight-up boredom. Now I don't need to go looking for trouble. Trouble's decided to bring me along for its own ride."

He gives Elle a sympathetic glance. He figures she has enough trouble in her life, what with her world staggering to an end, that she doesn't need it to come grab her the way Dan does.

"I don't know about you, but if I stay anywhere longer than six weeks, I start to go completely out of my head." Even in times when Dan has everything going for him - a job he likes, a place to stay, friends - he feels the need to bolt after a month or so. "Don't got to worry about that here."

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The Straw That Breaks The Cat's Back

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