sirenspull_logs | I can see inside you, the sickness is rising

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I can see inside you, the sickness is rising

Who: Jinx, Gabriel, Claudio and Trauma, with special guest appearances by Mary Winchester and Red X
When: Pretty much over the course of the whole sickness plot.
Where: House of Emo
Summary: They're a collective mess. What do you expect but to have all of them deathly ill from a guilt plague? ...Okay, not all of them. But nobody is surprised. (Also known as, we didn't want to flood the com with multiple things.)
Warnings: Sick characters, Character death, cursing, the general expected sort of craziness.

[To no one's great surprise, the plague struck and struck hard. It overall became a crazy, hectic mess about the moment that more than one of them came down with it, and made even less so by the fact that Jinx found bells and decided to use them.

High pitched noises are no one's friend.

Needless to say, as things continued, everyone began to go a bit stir crazy, but it could always be worse, right?]

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[Gabriel, being the least sick of the four of them (and the one with functioning super speshul powers that didn't just involve being invisible and whatnot), has been regulated to the task of responding every time Jinx rings a bell and earning his keep as fiance.

And, boy

she sure does love ringing that bell.]

[Yes. Yes, she does. In fact. She's ringing it right the fuck now from the foldout bed on the couch.]

[Jinx hasn't left the foldout bed their couch turns into for the past week. Sure, she occasionally makes one of the boys drag her to the bathroom. Meaning Gabriel. Because Claudio might just drop her down the stairs out of spite from all her bell ringing. It's like she has an endless supply of those things and lord only know where she stores them.

At the moment, she's laying on her side in front of the television. Flipping through all of the channels. Over. And over. And over again. Nothing good is fucking on. Someone probably needs to empty her puke bucket, too. Or brush her horribly greasy hair for her. Maybe poke her with a stick to see if her brain's still functioning.

Click. Click. Click.]

[Finding out the truth of the plague, surprisingly, didn't help Terry at all. He'd been deteriorating for days before, but with the knowledge of why, he'd actually started to think about it.

And, it made sense.

There was a plague based on guilt, and so of course he deserved to be sick, he had things he deserved to be guilty for. What was worse, he knew thinking this way had to make it worse, but it was like a loop in his head, it wouldn't stop.

And so it got worse.

As it was, Terry hadn't woken for several hours, but that was fairly normal over the past few days. The difference was, he'd been able to wake up if he'd tried, and that wasn't true anymore.

If he'd been awake, he wouldn't have been surprised that he'd gotten so sick. Then, if he'd been awake, there wouldn't be a problem.]

Edited 2012-05-26 04:40 (UTC)

[What do you know, it's that time of the week again. Without so much as a greeting, Red pops up in the kitchen, Hot Pocket in hand to throw into the microwave. A few beeps ring out, and he sets it humming, while he goes through the fridge for a drink.

He grimaces at the selection of various diet sodas, before grabbing a cola with a shrug and waiting for his food to finish heating. At the telltale sound, he retrieves the snack, and heads out for the living room, expecting to see one or both of the boys there. Instead, the lump of ill and pink hair on the couch catches his eye. He crosses the room, standing above her with an eyebrow quirked above his sunglasses.]

You look like oven-baked crap. [Sniff.] And smell like Taco Bell.

Edited 2012-05-26 04:46 (UTC)

[And away to the bedside, arose such a flutter... You get the idea. Gabriel's sniffling and kind of being a baby about having what only looks like a minor cold, but shh. His life is suffering.] You rang, babe?

[Jinx has a very large support group. She has family and friends who love her. She has therapists. She's medicated, even though she tries to hide that fact from people. Even though she's sick, she won't get as sick as the people who have died. Because people are there for her. She doesn't have feel like she has to lock everything inside.

...unlike the emo wonder. Yes, she knows Trauma has issues, and she constantly overlooks them. So long as the kid isn't slitting his wrists or playing My Chemical Romance too loud, she makes a joke out of his angst. Because it's not depression, it's angst. Right?

At least she loves him, even if it's in her own special way. Sometimes, it feels like no one has been together in this city as long as Trauma and Jinx. They used to share the same twin bed because they were too dirt poor to afford more. Now they have enough money to have everything they need and they're back to sharing a bed. Mostly out of convenience. Their several story town home is a lot larger when you're ill.

With their arms wrapped around each other, the brother and sister are sleeping. Trauma has her loosely in his grip, his chin on her head. She's thrown an arm around him, coughing into his stale smelling shirt. They've been out for several hours. Finally, when she gets thirst enough, the princess begins to stir. She pulls herself away from him with a groan. It takes a lot of effort, but she manages to grab the water bottle and take a few, slow drinks.

She shoves Trauma in the shoulder.]

Wake up, stupid.

[Her voice is hoarse. She coughs, trying to clear her throat enough to speak louder.]

You need water, T. Wake up.

[Glaring, she shoves him in the shoulder harder and he just...falls over onto his back. Her eyes grow wide. That's when she begins shaking him. Slapping his cheek. The sorceress screams, but no sound comes out. She tries her best to yell for help. For anyone. Her throat is raw. When she goes to grab a bell, she notices her vision is blurred and hot. Ringing the damn thing seems so stupid, so she throws it.

Then, with her powers, she throws the entire coffee table across the room. That should be loud enough.]

[With the back of her hand to her very feverish forehead, she strikes a good "dying" pose.]

I require...attention.

[Oh, Jinx. In truly overdramatic fashion, Gabriel gets down on his knees beside the fake-bed and takes her hand in his.] Anything at all- especially if it makes Trauma gag.

[She doesn't. Even. Move.]

Weren't you the one who told me that sniffing people is weird?

[Her hoarse voice is barely above a whisper.]

[He leans over the couch.]

You sniff people by being creepy and getting into their personal space. I can't help it if you reek of Bubonic fun time in a five-foot radius.

[He takes a bite of his snack, not even fazed.]

[And Gabriel appears in a blind panic- actually he appeared outside the room, narrowly missed the door and now he's gripping the sides of it like he was caught in a windstorm and has to hold on to keep from being swept up by the gusts. This is flying inside a house when you're not far away from your intended destination, but you pulled your wings out for it anyway.]

Did he- son of a bitch. [He's not an idiot. He knows what that look is and the fact that Trauma's not moving says just as much as the broken coffee table. Jinx may have had a temper, but she controlled it better these days. He turns to yell at someone outside the room.] Claudio, get in here.

[Because really if Trauma's out, Jinx will want both of her remaining boys with her.]

[Click. Click. Click. Hey, look. The cooking network. ...and that's Jinx quickly moving so she can heave into her bucket.]

[And then, from the depths of the blankets and the realm of 'oh dear god if you do anything with me here I will kill everyone and everything you love, she's practically my sister you ass and I trust neither of you'.]

...And you two usually aren't nauseating enough without trying?

[Oh. Hey. Well that's... that's just great.]

...huh.

[He just stares down at the half-eaten Hot Pocket, specifically at the mushy, vaguely food-ish innard sludge that... doesn't look too far off from what just filled that bucket. He twists his lip a little, before returning to the kitchen and, with a slump of his shoulders, chucks the remaining snack into the trash. He pops the can of soda open on the way back.]

It's true. You can sound like a cat horking up a hairball.

[She flips him the bird while she's coughing into the...disturbingly full bucket. When she finally makes her way into the fetal position, she murmurs:]

Water.

[Like she's expecting Red to, ya know, do something about that.]

Edited 2012-05-26 06:27 (UTC)

[He just stares.]

Water...? [He waves his hand in the air, expecting more.]

Oh, Gabriel. My angel.

[Now she's just playing it up to fuck with Trauma. Since he's under the blankets and can't see what the fuck she's doing, she brings her hand to her mouth. From there, she starts making the most disgusting kissy noises she can manage with the plague.]

Now.

[As in. Go fucking get it.]

[Stare.]

[Sip.]

[Stare.]

[Squirming fit. Her mouth tastes like bile. Stomach acid is burning her throat.]

I will throw this bucket of puke on you!

[Sip.]

You already threw what you could into that bucket.

[He turns around and heads back into the kitchen, grabbing a cup from the counter and filling it at the tap. Returning to the couch, he holds it just out of arm's reach.]

...well?

[She miserably bats at the cup.]

Give me.

[He stares a moment longer, then hands her the cup.]

You're a pretty pathetic piece of work right now, Muffin Top.

[The moment she gets handed the cup, she attempts to take a drink. It gets caught in her throat at that nickname.

She throws the water. Right in his face. Along with the cup. Because fuck you.]

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I can see inside you, the sickness is rising

FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS...

ONLY BECAUSE YOU'RE MARRYING A PRINCESS

COME BOTHER JINX

Damn it Trauma stop being such an emo brat and-ohhhh you aren't faking

Re: COME BOTHER JINX

YES. YES, HE IS.

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