vyvyan: (clean)
vyvyan ([personal profile] vyvyan) wrote2016-10-26 05:46 pm

(no subject)

It was almost liberating. For a whole week, he didn't change scene. Nobody bothered to visit. Nobody was watching. Perhaps, if he'd pushed himself, he could have forced a scene change, but why bother?

It meant the smell didn't come back when he bathed, after the first couple days. His hair unstiffened. His skin felt better. It was a surprise when, after four days, the studs fell out of his forehead, but he didn't care.

Alone, Vyvyan pondered his future. It was boring in the cell.

And then, it was all over. Released. Wilford is alive. He'd never been more relieved.


He has to muster every ounce of concentration not to change scene when he steps out the cell. If he's going to stay looking like this, he'll have to concentrate in every doorway, between every room. Sooner or later he will forget, he knows, but he's determined not to do it today.

He deposited a note at the bar.

I know you came back, but I want to apple aplogy say sorry for causing your death. It was an accident, but I was careless, because I knew that you reset if you get hurt, and because I was bored and winding you up was funny.
I should have been more simplethetic, really. I know what it's like to reset every five minutes to look like a knobhead. We're probly the only two of our kind here, which doesn't mean we should be like poofs or anything, but perhaps if I hadn't been a bully we could have been mates or something.
Anyway, you're not dead, well done.

Now what? Young, clean, normal-looking, only slightly insane... where to go next?

He concentrates, heads outside, and lights a cigarette. Maybe he'll have to give these up if he's not going to reset. Probably worth it.
cottoncandypink: (grrrrrr)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Wilford knows from experience that the resets will drive a person insane. Sanity is a rare unicorn where Wilford is from. Wilford's endured – from his perspective – almost a century's worth of pain, torment, and death over the span of just a few decades. Nobody comes out of that with their head on straight.

If this wasn't just how things were, Vyvyan's note might have had more impact. Wilford doesn't care that this isn't how things are for anybody else on this side of the door.

He doesn't care about anybody on his side of the door, either. But that's beside the point.

The poorly-written, barely-legible note just gets under his skin more than anything. He crumples it up and tosses it aside, trying to at least maintain an illusion of calm as he steps away from the Bar to hunt down the little orange-haired bastard to give him a copper-jacketed piece of his mind.
cottoncandypink: (grrrrrr)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
A prowling search of the bar turns up empty, so eventually Wilford goes outside to look for Vyvyan. He doesn't have much of a plan, beyond the end game, but planning hasn't been working very well for Wilford lately. It's time to improvise.

He'd figured searching outside might have been easier, since it's an open space. But there's also a lot of it to search, and it's taking longer than Wilford would have liked. It doesn't help that even when he gets dangerously close to Vyvyan, Wilford doesn't recognise him. Up until now, Vyvyan has been very... distinct, and difficult to miss. Today, Wilford walks right past him, barely even taking the time to glance his way.
cottoncandypink: (grrrrrr)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 05:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Wilford spins around, almost startled. He still doesn't recognise Vyvyan at first. And then he does, and every ounce of rage comes flooding forth.

As disguises go, it's a good one. Perhaps at some point in the future, Wilford might even give him credit for that. But right now, he's got other things on his mind. He moves fast when he wants to, and it's barely an instant between recognising Vyvyan and stepping close enough to grab him by the front of his shirt. His Magnum is in his hand now, pulled from his hidden inventory, with the muzzle pressed against the underside of Vyvyan's jaw.

"Tell me why I shouldn't," he says, his voice perfectly even.
cottoncandypink: (grrrrrr)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 05:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Wilford likes that fear. It means he's finally in charge of this situation.

"That all?" he asks.

Surely Vyvyan can do better than that.
cottoncandypink: (grrrrrr)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 06:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Wilford considers the offer, taking enough time to almost make it seem like he'll accept it.

"Nah," he says suddenly.

He fires off two rounds, barely flinching. Only after, does he let go of Vyvyan's shirt, waiting to see if another round or two might be needed to actually put him down.
cottoncandypink: (grrrrrr)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 06:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"Now we're even," Wilford says, just before firing the remaining four rounds. One is probably all it would take, but he wants to be damn sure.

For the first time in a long time, Wilford feels calm.
cottoncandypink: (The closest to neutral this fucker gets)

[personal profile] cottoncandypink 2016-10-26 06:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, that was a bit odd, but not the strangest thing Wilford's seen this week.

Confident that he's done what he came here to do, he puts the gun back into his inventory and walks inside. His resets don't work like Vyvyan's. He can't just walk through a door, or concentrate really, really hard. So he's still got Vyvyan's blood on him as he walks to the bar. Any illusions of normality have been long-shattered, and Wilford doesn't care enough to try to build them back up. Taking a damp towel offered to him from Bar, he very calmly cleans himself up as best as he can, writing his blood-stained shirt off as a loss. It's a fair price to pay, he thinks.

Rather than going home to hide, he stays where he is, enjoying a calm drink in blissful silence.
stuck_mynock: (Default)

[personal profile] stuck_mynock 2016-10-26 08:54 pm (UTC)(link)
-- Of course Atton would happen across Vyvyan's body.

Of course.

He doesn't even have to ask who did this.

But his senses are sharp enough for him to hear the pulse even without listening for it, so he crouches down, tugs back his sleeve, and holds one glowing hand over Vyvyan.
stuck_mynock: (This is very confusing.)

[personal profile] stuck_mynock 2016-10-26 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)
"I know better to ask who did this. Stop by the infirmary, get a doctor to check you out. Use meat tenderiser and toothpaste to get the blood out."

Vyvyan seems fine, so he straightens up and starts heading back towards the bar.
stuck_mynock: (Default)

[personal profile] stuck_mynock 2016-10-26 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)
"Noted," Atton says, without slowing down.