dualislogs | a new season has to begin

[She turns to kiss him and he pauses, not realizing she might respond that sympathetically. Refusing it feels cruel, even if he doesn't think that's what she really needs right now, although it is probably exactly what he needs. So he gives her a brief kiss and, more importantly, a huge hug.]

In Haven, I wanted to run away all the time. Just get on my boat and head somewhere I never have to think about the Troubles again. Find somewhere with a beach I can drink margaritas on, forget about everyone who died and let Haven fend for itself. But I can't do that. If I did, I'd never be anything better than the worst thing I've done.

If I don't deserve to die, you don't either. If I'm better than that, you must be.

Edited 2020-01-24 14:21 (UTC)

[now she’s content to be held in a hug, because it’s not just her who needs comforting. it doesn’t feel selfish and wrong to allow it this time, because she’s reciprocating the affection.

and she’s tired. drunk. miserable, a flurry of feeling fucked up on the inside, and she’s tired of feeling like this. gently, she rests her head on duke’s shoulder, closes her eyes.]

I killed someone once. Sorta. My literal evil twin. Mighta been a fake, but it sure felt fuckin’ real. I dunever wanna do that again. [she inhales a deep breath and sighs.] I dunwanna feel like this anymore. But I dunno how to stop.

[She's holding onto him, resting against him, which means she can hold on and rest now. That's good. Nothing else about this is good, so Duke will hold onto that. He keeps his arms tight around her, resting his chin against her head.

That's not strange to hear, especially not in Dualis. It's a little different from what he did, but he can't imagine it was any less traumatizing.] Was that here? [Even if it wasn't, that was just a little weirder than what he expected.]

So we'll figure out how to make sure it doesn't happen again. [While he continues to support her, he lifts the bottle of whiskey and glances at it.] Did you drink all this today? [He's not judging. Duke's careful about his own alcohol intake, but there had been times he went overboard on purpose (after Jeff McShaw's death, Vanessa's, Evi's, Roy's, and especially after Harry Nix's). He didn't know exactly what relationships she'd had with the now-executed members of the Heart, but knew Nick had to feel helpless now that all of those losses were coming together at once.]

Hey. Do you think you can drink some water? Are you hungry?

Edited 2020-01-25 17:24 (UTC)

Nah ... Hadriel.

[hadriel was where most of the more severely fucked-up things happened. wendigos, buried alive, meeting your actual evil twin. after three tours there, being on the run from space nazis was practically a vacation.]

Mm ... I think so. ‘SOK, us Nightbane heal fast. Livers included.

[so she has a higher tolerance than ever, and hers was pretty high to begin with. demolishing three quarters of a bottle in one sitting is still a lot, but she’s not in danger of alcohol poisoning, at least.

still, it’s been a long time since she’s had an episode of getting blackout drunk as a pain-coping technique. she was doing better about moderation, but today? today merited an exception, in her opinion.]

Not hungry ... just tired. Maybe some water. Bottled stuff’s in the fridge.

[because trusting the tap water in a city run by homicidal ai? big nope.]

Will you stay with me?

[if she were less drunk, she’d probably hate herself for sounding so fragile.]

Well, it's done now.

[Hadriel just sounded a lot like Haven except for the evil twins. ...All right, that had happened. But not to him, to one specific guy.

Duke doesn't know the first thing about Nightbane, but he assumes it's the word for whatever it is she is. Healing fast means she won't want to die due to the hangover tomorrow. She might still want to die, but she seems to have set that aside for the moment.]

I'll get you some.

[In a while. Not yet. For now he keeps holding her.]

Yeah. I'm not going anywhere.

Thank you.

[it’s quiet, almost mumbled into his shirt, but entirely sincere. nick’s content to just sit here for a while, breath slow and even, holding on to duke like a life preserver in the middle of a stormy sea. she actually dozes off for a moment, then startles awake with a small jerk and sits up.]

Why’re you so nice to me?

Never something you need to say thanks for.

[None of this is. Everyone needed comfort after seeing something like that --- everyone real -- and he doesn't know if she has anyone else. So he stays still and supportive, letting Nick rest. Just as he starts to wonder if she's asleep and he should tuck her in she starts. Duke loosens his arms around her, letting her shift away if she needs.]

Because I don't like seeing people I care about suffer.

Y'barely know me.

[how can he care about her when he barely knows her? how can he care about her at all? nick doesn't turn that question around on herself, doesn't interrogate her own feelings for duke - she knows she's fundamentally broken and doesn't operate the way a person should.]

Imma go to bed, [she says, reluctantly letting go of duke so she can start pulling herself to her feet and climbing into the bed.] Come with?

Edited 2020-01-28 04:11 (UTC)

Hey, you barely know me and you still tried to look out for me. We're friends, right?

[He's counting her as a friend, at least, and friends care about each other. There's no reason why he wouldn't care about her, which she can't see now, but it's clear as day to him. "Fundamentally broken" isn't showing up in his view yet, but even then, there are a lot of good broken people out there.]

Good plan. Let me get you some water. [He holds a hand out so he can help her up.] I'll stick around if you want.

Yeah ... we’re friends.

[and there’s something almost pained about how she says that, then goes quiet for a good few seconds before continuing:]

You’re real good at being a friend, y’know? Me, not so much. Never got much practice at it. Maybe you could tell me your secret sometime.

[she takes his hand for the help up, unsteady on her feet when she’s once again standing, and she ends up leaning into duke so she doesn’t fall over. with a soft, embarrassed chuckle, she then stands up straight and tips her gaze up to him, head swimming in a sea of whiskey.]

i do ... want you. Uh - to stick around, obviously. Tha’s what I meant.

[she actually wouldn’t say no to more than that - old coping techniques die hard - but even as drunk as she is, nick has enough awareness to guess that duke is too good of a guy to go for it.]

I choose good people to be friends with. That's the secret.

[He helps her up and stands himself, wrapping his arm around her once again. For a second the cute easygoing bartender he took out on a date last month comes back. It's a huge relief that Nick can be that girl again, even if it took way too much whiskey to get her there. It means she can relax, can want something, even if it's hard right now. She's way too drunk for anything to happen tonight, but that just means Duke will try to make sure she'll be okay.]

Sit down, I'm going to get you some water. And if you fall asleep, don't worry. I'll be here when you wake up.

[she understands what he's getting at - he thinks she's a good person. nick wishes she could believe that about herself the way he does. smiling sadly, she leans up to brush a kiss against his cheek, then wraps her arms around him in a tight hug.]

Thank you.

[reluctantly, she releases her hold on him and climbs into the bed, moving to curl up and settle on one side, leaving room for duke when he returns.]

[He'll believe it for them both tonight. Maybe she can believe it herself tomorrow. For now it's enough that she can smile at all.]

We're going to figure this out.

[He returns the bearhug and watches her settle on the bed, ducking into the kitchen and quickly sorting out the bags in the fridge before returning with a chilled bottle of water and that nausea standby of an empty pot, both of which he places on her nightstand.]

Try to drink a little of this, okay?

[she pushes herself back up to sitting again to accept the bottle of water, twists off the cap, and takes a sip. she can appreciate that he's prepared for her to be sick, but nick takes particular pride in the fact that she's never once thrown up after a night of too much to drink.]

I, um ... I don't know what I'm gonna do now. 'Mnot that great at planning shit, y'know?

[she's always had trouble envisioning a future for herself. without the heart to lead her, she doesn't know the first thing about how to fight this omniscient enemy.]

I keep thinkin' this is just a bad dream ...a nightmare, and I'm gonna wake up and see if Vergil wants to get coffee so I can tell him about this fucked-up shit my brain came up with while I was asleep, but ... [she halts, shaking her head, and inhales a deep breath to steady her quavering voice.] This ain't a dream. And he's gone.

[and it's your fault, a sinister voice hisses inside her head, and she tries to freeze it out by taking a huge gulp of water. all she manages to do is miscalculate and choke on the mouthful of liquid, cough and splutter.]

Christ, [she mutters, wiping at her mouth with the hem of her sleeve,] 'msorry you gotta see me like this. I know it ain't pretty.

Of course you don't know. It's day one. Plans don't happen until day three.

[Trying to plan right now would be pointless: there was just too much to process, too much raw emotion to work through, before that could happen. The way she talks about Vergil confirms it, she's shocked and to her they're not even dead yet.

He rubs her back as she coughs, settling on the bed beside her.]

This part's always going to suck. It's never pretty for anyone.

[she manages a dry laugh, not entirely sure if what he says is a joke.]

What, d’ya got some kinda five-day plan for getting over fucked-up shit or somethin’? Twelve easy steps?

[if only it were that easy. nick takes one more sip of water and screws the cap back on the bottle, then reaches over to take duke’s hand, if he’ll allow it. she’s more grateful he’s here with her than she can put into words.]

Y’sound like you’re an expert.

It's a three-day plan. Day one you survive, usually with the help of liquor. And I'd say you nailed that.

[He says it so simply it might read as a joke again, especially as he smiles back at her. But he's serious, it's the system he's come up with over the last year. She takes his hand and he squeezes hers, reassuring.]

I told you, the Troubles kill a lot of people.

Day two's mourning. Day three's making a plan. We're going to get you to day three.

a new season has to begin

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