ArchivedLogs:In Which A Rabbit Is Caught But Uneaten, Only Partially Owing To Nausea

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In Which A Rabbit Is Caught But Uneaten, Only Partially Owing To Nausea
Dramatis Personae

Ellin, Taylor

2015-11-15


<< I'm sick to fucking death of being told I don't understand. >> (Part of Flu Season.)

Location

<XS> Forest


Quiet and shady, the trees rise all around here high and thick. In stillness, woodland creatures make appearances, though sudden noises scare them back into the cover. Dappled sunlight filters down between the thick foliage, and the ground underfoot is heavily overgrown, though here and there paths have been worn, by deer or years of students wandering familiar trails.

It's a crisp cool evening, clear and bright. The forest floor is dappled with silvery light through the trees from the bright splash of moon overhead -- though here in this one particular spot it's brighter still, a warm yellow glow from an electric lantern hung up on a low tree bough. Beneath the branch is one betentacled telepath, tucked down among the roots of an oak somewhat off the side of the path. Taylor is in jeans, hiking boots, a denim jacket over a dark sweatshirt, one of his tentacles still a little smooth on its underside where it is not quite done regrowing its suckers after being torn off, one side of his face covered in clean gauze, a large silver thermos in his hands together with a plastic tupperware rather full of fish. Uncooked, evidently fresh; he's hungrily tearing into a pumpkinseed right now.

She's SO hungry. It's right there in her face. All these people walking around. She hurts all over. She's nauseous. A bit dizzy (times five). Her thoughts are scattery and irritable. PEOPLE are looking like food, which doesn't help the nausea, and now? Now she finds herself wandering in the forest. For... what? To grab a rabbit... a squirrel? She's, for one of the first times in her life, truly ashamed of herself, and it burns brightly inside of her... right there next to the hunger and the excitement as the five of her encircle the creature. Five perfectly coordinated bodies? Even without experience, hunting a small animal is easier than she might expect with those kinds of odds and coordination. So it is that with a sort of satisfaction and joy, the girls pounce and somehow working together manage to get a rabbit by the ruff. When they stumble upon Taylor, still contemplating how exactly one gets the meat out of an animal, the shame rolls off of the Ellins all over again, suddenly painfully aware of how crazy what they're doing is. They don't bother to hide it from the telepath though. What would be the point. "Hey." Is awkwardness an emotion? They're full of it.

Taylor curls the tip of his arm tighter around the fish that he holds. There's a small hiss from him; evidently chewing /hurts/, but he doesn't stop, ripping off another mouthful as he looks up at Ellin. His tongue swipes out across the half of his lips that aren't covered in bandaging. "... {That's impressive.}" It's a gruff mutter; though the words come out very distinctly in Japanese, audibly foreign to Ellin's /ears/, in her mind there's a strange sort of dissonance as his /intention/ muddles through understandably enough. "{How you gonna kill it?}" His grey eyes are flicking over all of her, considering.

There's that roiling moment of squeamisheness at the thought of killing the rabbit... But of course, she would have to to get the meat out. Still, she does her best to muddle her thoughts together in an audible response. There, too, is a jangling dissonance. << Thanks. It was... easier than I thought. I never realized how much monolocational existence limits athletic pursuits. >> Ellin pauses, and then she offers: << I don't know how to, or even what to do with it. Would it... hurt less if I hit it against a rock really hard? I don't want it to hurt. >> Except, a small part of her doesn't really care. It just wants to strip open the skin and feel the hot flesh in her mouth, feel the blood against her skin. Her stomach does flip flops. << I'll... share if you help me figure this out? >>

Taylor swallows his mouthful of fish with another wince, another sharply drawn-in hiss. "{I've never had a problem.}" Even as he speaks, one long limb is whipping out, remarkably fast and deft -- to snatch the kicking rabbit out of Ellin's hands, coiling around it tightly. "{How limited do I fucking look to you?}" There's a quick sharp /snap/ as a second arm reaches up to snap the rabbit's neck, fast and clean.

<< Oh fuck you very much. You know for a fucking fact that's not what I was thinking, asshole. >> Still, at this point, she's thinking the boy has agreed to share, and that's why he's snapping its neck. Still, the spark of anger causes all that aggression and anger to come boiling up out of her depths. It's not a natural reaction for her. Her emotional moors scrabble trying to shove the aggression down. Attackattackattack they say. Still, she's had long practice in suppressing negative feelings and behaviors, and they are slowly pushed down beneath the currently turbulent surface. Still, all five of her take a step towards Taylor in unison. Her eyes... and thoughts are on that rabbit.

"{Just what you were /saying/ then? The fuck. Just because I read minds doesn't mean I -- /ugh/.}" Taylor's hand lifts to scrub at the side of his face -- but drops again /very/ rapidly as it comes into contact with the bandaging there. His arm /was/ starting to lower back towards Ellin, rabbit in hand, but at this /ugh/ he gives a rapid flicking shake as though ridding himself of something distasteful. The rabbit is half-dropped, half-tossed aside into the bushes some few feet away. "Fff. Shit."

The gaze of the girls is drawn immediately to the rabbit in question as it is dropped. They are about to pounce on the dropped rabbit when the boy says 'shit'. The nausea in their bellies fades. Instead, her brain fuzzes out. Pure, murderous aggression flows out of her mind like a flare being shot up. Bright, blazing, angry. And its target? The man who said 'shit'. Suddenly, there are five tall, athletic cheerleader types trying to pile on Taylor in a moment of kicking, punching, grabbing, scrabbling hands. That urge will fade into severe nausea and confusion mere seconds later.

Taylor snarls, dropping the fish he'd been holding as suddenly he is DOGPILED by cheerleader. The feelings of aggression are reflected back to Ellin, a wordless wash of psionic feeling flooding up against her mind as he presses back against the tree he'd been sitting against. His breath rushes out of him; there's a moment of delay before five of his limbs whip inward, each seeking to coil at an Ellin and /hurl/ her away from him. His arms sag down to the ground after this, too, his expression -- slightly vacant and similarly confused. "{... I lost your rabbit.}" He sounds almost sheepish. Apologetic.

The first one or two Ellins cling tenaciously as they are pushed away. Still, they don't really have a chance. The get back up, ready to wade back in... and then the rage is gonna, and the remaining three are piteously easily pushed away. Despite some blood from a few cuts and scrapes, the girls are looking confused. "What... what happened?" Three of the Ellins help the first two up from where they'd stumbled. Her stomach turns upside down, and soon, there's five Ellins kneeling and retching. Their expression is downright sickly and woozy. When they finally cease, she murmurs,"I... mmmph... I..." Somewhere, she marshals the strength to form the thought in her head, ceasing with the english. << I don't... know if I should have it right now... My stomach doesn't feel good. >> PRobably because she's feeling enough nausea to make FIVE people cranky.

Taylor shakes his head, his arms coiling inward around his torso. "{Maybe ginger ale.}" The tip of one smaller arm pokes back in the general direction of the school. "{I don't -- know. Um. I don't -- You had a rabbit?}" His brows knit together. One tentacle slowly uncurls, feeling around the ground, though giving up when he doesn't immediately find it. His body hunches slightly over, expression screwing up with the feeling of secondhand nausea. "{/I'm/ going to need some in a minute, anyway. This is -- not. Fun.}"

The girls put hands over cuts and scrapes. Both from the scuffle and the hooks that may have found her skin. Seeing her << I just felt so... I don't know, and then... did I black out for a second? >> Still, the girls, leaning on each other, manage to find their way to their feet. They're not even wearing their usual numbered clothes. << I apologize. Yes... Let's get ginger ale. This... cure... it screwed up my stomach hard. >> Weakness suddenly fills their limbs for a moment. She'd likely collapse if she didn't have five of herself to lean one. One even reaches out a hand toward the boy as if to offer him a hand up. << Here. >>

Slowly and kind of shakily, Taylor reaches out one of his tentacles, the smooth unhooked side pressing against Ellin's hand as he accepts the help in standing. "{I'm sorry, too. I haven't meant to...}" His voice is soft. Though he trails off without finishing, in both tone and the mental inference that accompanies his Japanese words, his apology sounds genuine. He pulls to his feet, still leaning on Ellin as he unhooks his lantern from the tree branch. "{Ginger ale. Maybe after that some. Food will work.}"

<< This is surreal. The medicine, I'm glad we have it, but I'm... it hurts a lot. But I'm grateful. I haven't... had a lot of challenges. I mean, when I was younger, before I was... the person I am now- >> There's a little bit of hesitance attached to that last thought, and self-disgust that follows a thread deeper into her thoughts. << -I had some challenges. But nothing most people would consider all that... rough. I'm learning a new level of coping. >> The Ellins, two of them, break off to go to the other side of Taylor, offering him a little support. Apparently the tentacles don't bother her. She notes the texture with some curiosity, and that's about it. << I can make something. I know how to cook. Meat. You want meat, right? >> Because that's what SHE wants, too.

"{I want meat. I can't really cook for shit though. And it hurts like a motherfucker. I was getting it and...}" This trails off, too. Taylor's shoulders tense, tightening with a hard inward clench. "{I don't really like. Doctors anyway. And it wasn't...}" He stops again, lifting his hands to press his fingers to his lips. One of his limbs lifts to curl around an Ellin's shoulder when she moves to the other side of him, evidently grateful for the support; there's been a small wobbly waver in his steps as he walks. "{Guess that's all you can do when the world throws shit at you. You learn to cope or you -- break. Who /are/ you, now?}"

<< I'll cook enough that we can all be full. I'll send Five upstairs to get us some malox too. It probably won't help, but it's no reason not to try. >> The Ellins try their best not to concentrate on the gnawing hunger and heavy nausea in the gut of her bodies. << I'm right there with you. I have an endo I go to, a friend of my moms'. I know he's doing his job, but all the poking and prodding and questions, it feels creepy. You do what you have to, but... you never end up liking it. Like being a bug in a jar. >> Ellin's mouths frown as she considers. << I know all this will make me a better person, but... is it wrong to think I would've rather saved being sick even if it adds character? >>

Taylor shakes his head, shivering against Ellin at the mention of poking and prodding. His shoulders droop after this. "No." Just quiet. A little hoarse. And then again in Japanese once more the next time. "{No. I'd be a totally different person, too, I'm sure, but. There's a lot of shit in life I could've -- done without.}" His hand is visibly shaky as it lifts to touch the bandaging against his face. "{/Can't/ take it back, though. So I'd still rather not be broken.}"

<< I know the feeling. The entire world... how it sees you is WHO you are to them, even though it isn't who you are. And knowing that they're not seeing you as you really are, it makes you feel sick and wrong inside. Like it's not... right. It probably doesn't mean much, since my life has been pretty good up until now, but I get that. >> She keeps walking, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. The Ellins are carefully focusing on walking. Helps with the hunger.

"{I don't think...}" Taylor hesitates, head tipping down to focus on the ground. "{I don't think it's some kind of. Competition. Who's had it worse. What you feel is always going to be important it doesn't matter if you've had a rough time or an easy one?}" One of his shoulders gives a small shrug. "{But -- yeah. There's a lot. A lot to feel... wrong about.}" He falls back into quiet, the lantern held low at his side and his eyes fixed on the ground.

<< Some people make you feel that way sometimes. And I can't say or be upset about something without being told I've got it easy or I don't understand. >> That anger and irrationality flashes in her head: << I'm sick to fucking death of being told I don't understand. >> And then mortification at her words. She contracts mentally, and suddenly that nausea looms inside of her. << Apologies. Again. Um. Yeah. That's... one of the best things I've ever heard. You want cow, or chicken? >> Two of the Ellins split off at this point to jog stumblingly ahead to begin preparing things. << I can actually listen pretty good if there's anything you feel wrong about you wanna talk about? >>

Taylor shrugs again. "{But you probably /don't/ understand,}" he says with a wry upward hitch of smile, "{just like there's plenty of shit in your life /I/ probably don't understand. Or other people don't. Doesn't mean /your/ feelings aren't valid. Just means you shouldn't tell other people how to feel about their lives and they shouldn't tell you how to feel about yours.}" His eyes haven't left the ground. There's a long bit of quiet here. His head shakes eventually. "{Don't want to talk. Just want to fucking -- eat.}"

<< That... makes a lot of sense to me, actually. It's fair. I don't know... I'm... happy most of the time, and I like being happy most of the time. I like... people. I like everyone when I first meet them. I don't think... that that's wrong. Not normal, I know, but... not wrong. >> A pause, and then she keeps walking. << Careful, there's a root ahead. Five has the malox. Three is almost to the kitchen. There's some ground beef. Do you want a burger, or do you want just the meat? >>

"{Happy most of the time sounds like a good way to be.}" A small shiver runs up through Taylor. "{... lately all I'm feeling is angry. Happy'd be a good. Change. I'd like getting back there.}" His nose wrinkles after this. "{No wait. Angry /and/ pukey. Not a great combination. Maalox sounds appealing. And beef. Rare. Just the beef is good.}" Even with the warning he half stumbles over the root. Doesn't fall, though. Leans against Ellin and keeps going. "{Anyway I have no idea what the hell 'normal' is.}"

<< I like it. My mom told me that sometimes you have to decide to be happy. I know it doesn't work that way for everybody. But I made that decision at a young age and I just kept making it. >> The Ellins not. << Same. I'll cook it just enough not to give us parasites. >> She pulls up on Taylor even when he trips, her stomach doing flipflops. << Maalox will be waiting for us. >> Indeed, one of her is already taking some. << I suspect my idea of normal is pretty screwed up anyway. >>

"{Around here?}" For just a moment, Taylor almost -- alllmost -- smiles. "{I think most people's normal is a little skewed.}"