Senkha & Oliver: June 1

Senkha has actually scooted up the stairs on her behind, carrying her cane with her. At the top of the stairs, she resumes some semblance of dignity and heads for the bed, plopping down with a fwump.

Macglynn slow-claps. "Ah was gunna offer t' carry yah up, but that works too."

Senkha says: Mm, I thought you'd appreciate that. As much as I do enjoy you carrying me everywhere, independence is nice, too.

Macglynn removes his blade, propping it against the bedframe. He walks around and sits on the bedside, shrugging with a smile. "It's whut y'want, usually."

Senkha says: I like it both ways. I love having you help me with things, but... well, it's been hard, -needing- to depend on you.

Macglynn says: Well, it don't bother me any. But Ah been through that, too hurt t'do anythin'. Ah know it sucks.

Senkha reaches over and wraps her arms around Oliver's waist. "I remember a couple of those times. It'll be nice to get back to things being...well. Sort of normal, anyway."

Macglynn says: Yeah. Y'know, think Ah been hurt bad lahk that more after bein dead then in m'whole lifetahm. An' dun' ever count on normal.
Macglynn says: Y'married me.

Senkha chuckles softly, giving Oliver a light squeeze. "I did, didn't I? Still the best decision I ever made, I'd say."

Macglynn laughs. "That's 'cause yer crazy. An' speakin' 'a crazy... you still owe me practice. It was practice, right?"

Senkha says: Practice, yes.
Senkha says: We'll go with that.

Macglynn says: Good! Y'need practice. Yer pancakes is too imaginary.

Senkha snickers and facepalms on Oliver's back. "Do you -really- want to practice with pancakes, love?"

Macglynn says: Ah was jus' usin' pancakes as an example!

Senkha continues to grin. "Well, I maintain that I could create excellent pancakes, if I really wanted to."

Macglynn says: ... Well a'rite, then, prove it.
Macglynn says: Make me believe it.

Senkha nods, pressing her lips together. She then gets up and makes her way downstairs to the kitchen. After several minutes of apparent puttering, she returns on her rear end with a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. Slowly, Oliver would begin to pick up on the scents of the house around him: the musty wood, the mold in the walls, the paper in the bookshelf, Senkha's perfume... and the pancakes. She resumes her previous position, setting the pancakes on his lap and smiling. "Try them."

Macglynn looks up at her and smiles. "They ain't poison, is they?" Taking them, he gives them a try, looking around the house as if he's never even seen it before. When the taste registers, his eyes go wide. "Hey! Ah almost believe this!"

Senkha just watches him eating the pancakes, smiling sadly. "I think I'd have to do some pretty deep things to your mind to make you -actually- believe it," she points out. Never mind that she never went downstairs, that there are no pancakes. She's just not happy that she can't make him actually believe he's alive.

Macglynn says through a full mouth, "Try it."

Senkha blinks at him, as if it's that simple. This is going to take some doing. She mutters something under her breath and closes her eyes, clearly putting forth an enormous effort. After a moment, Oliver might start to feel pinpricks in his skin, like his feet have been asleep for a long time, only all over. Slowly, the rot begins to reverse itself, as if time is moving backwards. A few minutes later, he might find himself needing to breathe.

Macglynn stops to breathe, having forgotten to while eating. He laughs quietly, looking up at Senkha and setting down his fork. "Whoo! Should give m'self a break." He shakes out his hand, the tingling a fading annoyance.

The tingling doesn't fade; it gets stronger until it blossoms into a full-fledged feeling. There's a rush of warmth in his body as blood starts pumping again and, surprisingly, the skin even grows back over his jaw. Senkha, behind him, is shaking with the effort of it.

Macglynn drops the plate onto his lap, now gasping as he becomes fully aware of the sensation. He grips the plate again, his now tan fingers becoming white with pressure. "O-okay. Good."

Senkha 's grip on Oliver's waist has become vicelike. The thing is, she tells his mind quite firmly, none of this is fake. This is actually happening. Light only knows how she accomplished it, but it's here and real and kind of exhausting.

Macglynn looks down at his hands, his breath beginning to slow. "Wh- well. Huh. Would you-" He reaches up to touch his face, then frowns, feeling only the inside of his glove. That's right, that's not usually a problem.

Senkha is actually tearing up with effort. Her eyes remain screwed shut as the transformation slowly completes. To all intents and purposes, Oliver is entirely alive--breathing, feeling, every last bit of it. He can probably even smell the last whiffs of mold off the back of his neck and the last slight hint of decay in his mouth. His swarm, having lost their home, are buzzing around the room angrily, avoiding the MacGlynns for the most part. And that damn grub has landed on the floor with a squish.

Macglynn tears off his glove and touches his face again, looking back over at her in confusion. He pats down his torso, watching the insects skitter into the dark corners of the house. It's only now he realizes he's crying, involuntarily, overwhelmed.
Macglynn says: ... This is gunna last longer'n five hours this tahm, ain't it.

Senkha, at the sight of his tears, makes a soft, pained noise. Immediately, the entire illusion disperses: there is no plate, the grub and swarm are comfortably inside the rotting corpse that is her husband, and there were never any pancakes. She covers her eyes, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I couldn't do it, I couldn't... I c-- You believed it. You... I'm so sorry."

Macglynn is still breathing, though it's a harsh, ragged sound. He reaches out and slams a fist into the bedpost in an instinctive test of reflex, looking shocked for a moment before realizing what's happening. "... Aw, hell, whut'd Ah make you do."

Senkha is actually crying, very quietly but definitely. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I couldn't... I couldn't keep lying to you like that. You were so happy... I didn't... I mean. I love you too much to do that, to lie to you, I mean."

Macglynn says: ... Y'did real well, though. Don't be so upset lahk that, Ah told yah t'do it.

Senkha says: Did you want that. Did you want me to lie to you like that. Did you want... did you want to be that thoroughly deceived for that... that experience?

Macglynn leans back to grab one of her hands, trying to calm her down. He smiles. "Ah dunno whut Ah expected. But y'did real amazin' fer yer first try."

Senkha's fingers curl around Oliver's hand, somewhat instinctually. "I just wanted to make you happy," she admits weakly. "I don't know if it's worth... you were so happy, I couldn't bear to think of how sad you'd be when it ended and it was all a lie."

Macglynn says: ... Yeah, didn' really think it through that far, but Ah'd git over it.
Macglynn says: Always do.

Senkha looks sideways at Oliver. "Would you want that again? Would you -believe- it if I did that again?" There is so much delicious guilt in her thoughts that not even the usual haze can drown it out.

Macglynn is apparently so used to having his mind fucked with that he's not even seeing the issue. His smile doesn't fade as he shrugs and says, "Maybe? Looks lahk it gave you a hard tahm, so not if it takes a lot outta yah."
Macglynn says: Also, yer raht, it may make me kinna nuts after. Losin' that, it hurts. Got it back an' lost it a few tahms na'.
Macglynn says: Lahk a runnin' joke.

Senkha shakes her head, wiping away a few last stray tears and squeezing Oliver's hand. "It didn't. It doesn't. It was more just the idea of lying... and that. That isn't fair at all. I don't like the idea of putting you through it."

Macglynn says: Well that's how Ah know Ah'll git over it.

Senkha says: But... I mean, maybe someday, if you don't need to ever know that you're undead anymore... maybe then it can just never end.

Macglynn blinks at you.
Macglynn says: That's awful grim.

Senkha says: How's that grim?

Macglynn says: Well, that this world'll git shitty enough that Ah dun' wanna be in it anymore.

Senkha gives Oliver a smile. "I was more thinking years and years from now, if it's just the two of us, and somehow, you don't need to fight anymore."

Macglynn says: That's a lot 'a 'ifs'. Dun' think Ah could ever jus' hide away from everythin', though.
Macglynn says: Even if it sucks.

Senkha says: ...how about for a week or so, then?

Macglynn says: Eh, that'd not be so bad.
Macglynn grins.

Senkha says: Would you believe it if I did it again?

Macglynn says: If y'was real good at bein' convincin'.

Senkha nods thoughtfully and rests her head against Oliver's shoulder. "I'm sorry I stopped it. I just couldn't stand the idea of hurting you."

Macglynn goes quiet a moment. "Hey. Cheer up. Quit actin' so down eve'ry single tahm Ah actually ask yah t'do somethin'."
Macglynn says: Y'wonder why Ah never does.

Senkha smiles wryly. "I'm sorry. I just didn't... I guess I didn't think it through. We can try again."

Macglynn says: Did y'want to? Seemed t' take a lot outta you.

Senkha says: ...that was part of the illusion. Making you come back to life... well, that -would- take a lot out of me, wouldn't it. Unless it happened gradually.
Senkha ponders.

Macglynn blinks, pushing his hair back and pondering himself. "Huh, look at me, still believin' it."

Senkha says: ...well, I mean. I don't know. If I brought your fingers back...
Senkha shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing.

Macglynn flexes his still-gloved fingers before clenching them. His grin broadens a little bit. "Ah think that sounds lahk a good plan."

Senkha smiles softly and leans over to kiss Oliver. "For now, would a little illusion do? I don't know that I could convince you that you're really alive again, but..."

Macglynn leans into the kiss, smiling against her lips. When he leans back, he pats her on the upper arm. "Lazy."

Senkha grins as well and shakes her head. "Not lazy as much as emotionally unstable," she corrects. Whichever the case may be, he experiences their usual transition: a quick phasing from undeath into simulated life.

Macglynn flops onto his back on the bed, looking up at her. "It's a wonder y'ain't cracked completely," he remarks.

Senkha lies down beside Oliver, resting her head on his shoulder. "I could say the same of you," she points out, smiling slightly. "And this probably won't help matters. But, hey. It'd be worth it, yeah?"

[and then branesecks happens, in which Oliver takes complete control of Senkha and she's like "damn that's hot" and he's like "ayup" and she's like "im a slave 4 u" and he's like :}]

Macglynn dismisses the illusion entirely, wrapping an arm around her. Because you can't really replace a real-world hug.

Senkha seems pretty pleased with this; they haven't really actually moved from sitting next to each other. "So... what you're trying to say is that being controlled is sort of brilliant."

Macglynn says: Wh- no, Ah never... really said that, no.

Senkha says: You didn't say that, no.

Macglynn says: Ah was more jus' sayin' that there's sometahms sitchyations where it may be handy an' y'shouldn' feel bad about it 'cause it's jus' me.

Senkha hesitates before admitting, "I think that what makes me feel less bad about it is that you do it, too. To me, I mean. So it's fair. Does that make sense?"

Macglynn smirks. "Y'also feel less bad about it 'cause y'thought it felt, whut was th' word- brillyunt?"

Senkha 's cheeks flush pretty severely. "...well, it did. I mean." She swallows hard; in the world of crazy admissions, this is pretty high up there. Her voice is low with the admission. "...I liked you being that to me."

Macglynn says: Y'wanna know why it feels that way?

Senkha just nods, still looking sheepish.

Macglynn smiles. "It's th' ultimate act 'a trust, lettin' someone do that. An' even if it's a sin, it's beautiful t' trust someone that much. T'me, anyway." He sits up on his elbows again. "But imagine that feelin', that complete loss 'a control, an' it bein' in th' hands 'a someone y'don't trust at all."
Macglynn says: That's th' diff'rence b'tween you an' th' Lich King.
Macglynn says: No matter -what- y'ask 'a me, an' ha' often y'ask it.

Senkha can't help but smile at this; it's a little bit off kilter, like she's on a trip to crazy town, but it's genuine. She moves over and kisses Oliver gently, murmuring, "And I belong to you, either way. Always will."

Macglynn says: O-okay, that's good!
Macglynn kisses her on top of her head. "It's late, y'should get some sleep."

Senkha smiles at Oliver. "Want to join me?"

Macglynn says: ... Y'know, that ain't a half-bad ahdea.

Senkha 's smile broadens. And then they sleep. Like bears in winter. Or something.

Macglynn zzzz