silph_co | if we can call them friends then we can call them on their telephones

Sympathy isn't exactly what she's looking for and she's sucking in a breath through gritted teeth, though any annoyance is quickly lost once again as she remembers who exactly she's talking to. Right, there's no reason to get upset with him when he knows exactly what she's had to deal with before.

"It was just the three of us for the longest time, myself and Edward having learned illusion spells in order to keep us going and support ourselves. It was... mostly fine and dandy. But then Keats... he got sick. With something that evidently couldn't be cured at the time. We still don't know what it was, exactly." She pauses for a moment as her zoroark is shifting to force his head under her hand, to scratch his ears while she keeps on.

"We thought maybe we could figure something out with necromancy, you know? We were... desperate, to put it mildly. It didn't work and we had come to realize that we also had grown a love for the art and I guess we held a bit of pettiness towards the sect we'd been involved in and became liches just to prove to them that we were stronger than them, smarter than them, than their stupid bullshit childish way of going about the art."

"Well, yes," he says, softly. "That's very reasonable. I don't know if I'd have done any differently in your place." He's quiet for a moment. "My uncle got sick like that. When I was seven. He died less than a year later. We know what it was, but I don't know how much that helps when there was no cure. If I'd had the option to try to save him with necromancy, I'd have taken it. Just like I'd have done anything to bring Charley back after I came home to find her missing."

He shakes his head. "Keats was your Charley, I guess," he says and it settles something in him to put that notion into words. "Not that... losing Edward wasn't horrible too. But it's different when it's a younger sibling, one who depends on you."

He's quiet for another long moment. "I should get you something to drink. I'm not entirely sure either of us should be sober now. Hell, I'll get you high if you want it. I cooked the stuff myself."

"Necromancy isn't something to be fucked with, whether you can or can't bring someone back with it. You do that, all you get is a husk of what that person used to be. You get the body, but the soul, the personality, everything about them is lost." Whether or not she tried to do that is anyone's guess, she's... not particularly keen on giving the details on what she had or hadn't done.

"Sure is a hell of a lot different. Keats depended on the both of us and we were still children ourselves at the time. You know, we tried to sustain ourselves on our love for him for a while after we became liches..." It didn't work. As he can probably put together by the fact she fed on suffering until ending up in this place.

Alcohol. Drugs. God, it's been forever since she's even touched that sort of thing. "Been hundreds of years since I got the chance to touch those kinds of things, but sure, why the hell not. Can't be any worse than it was before." She's huffing and shifting around on the couch to... instead hang off of it, don't question the hows or the whys, Steven.

He laughs softly, looking at her with immense fondness. She's not Charley, she's nothing like Charley, but it occurs to him that if he were offered a chance to pick anyone as a second sibling, he'd choose Lydia in a heartbeat.

"Well. They're both good for numbing trauma. I find that drugs are especially good for making everything bearable, but on the other hand, I've learned that they also come with a certain... candidness on my part. I have a tendency to lose most of my, mm, well-earned politesse while high. That said... I really don't think either of us could say or do anything to shock or horrify the other at this point."

She's a garbage fire of a former undead creature, she's related to nothing and no one. She is huffing softly to herself and shifting to put her palms flat on the floor and... Lydia, that's not how hands and arms are supposed to work, but sure.

"Unless you start telling me details of your sex life, I think we're good on anything exciting or shocking happening. I don't have much else that's worse to tell than I already have." Except if he wanted the details of how one transforms into a lich, but she'd rather not get to that point right now. "Bring it on~"

Well, there's a reason he's not actually saying that out loud.

Instead, he laughs again. "No. I only did that to Dirk and that was to prove a point to him—which didn't work, because that boy is fucking dense when it comes to how actual real people have sex and not, like, puppet snuff. I won't do that to you, Lydia.

"Give me a moment to retrieve my stuff, okay?"

Hopefully Steven has realized his mistake in getting her fucked up at this point, given this dumb bitch has been pretty much sprawled everywhere like a cat. And even more so just finding ways to... actually act like a cat, given she's tried to rub her face on him at least three times by this point.

For now she's just half on and half off the couch, cheek resting on one of the pillows with a soft hum.

"Feels better than I remember~" Only for you.

Steven just laughs and laughs, reaching over to pet Lydia's head like a cat. If the collar fits...

"Yeah, no, eternal unlife as an animated skeleton with your essence in a box sounds great and all, but there's nothing like the tactile pleasures of mortal life," Steven says, grinding the end of their joint out in an ashtray. "Pillows. Fucking. Getting fucked up. Reaching for someone's throat and--" He laughs and mimes squeezing. "Mm. I still want my stress neck."

Sure doesn't stop her from headbutting into his hand, much like a cat would. Elves are cats, confirmed.

"You have to get creative where you put your essence, make sure people can't get to it~" Unlike the stupidity she pulled, but we won't talk about that right about now. She's keeping a close eye on him, even while she's acting like a complete imbecile. "Mm, you know, lucky you being able to get to feel all that shit. I just get to travel around and deal with Pokemon and uppity trainers. I'd say a girl has needs, but no one in this place is~ Good~ Enough~" For her standards.

Though the last part causes her a moment of pause before her eyes widen and she's shifting around to sit up on her knees. "Okayokayokay. But if this place is as peaceful as it supposedly is, can people actually die here?"

"God I don't know," Steven says, looking straight at her with eyes just as wide. "I know that we can't, that we just fade to unconsciousness and wake up at a Pokemon center with half our money gone--but I don't know about the natives. I, uh, had been taking care to stop while they were still breathing."

He'd been sitting loose and sprawled on his own half of the couch, not caring how much space he takes up, but suddenly he straightens himself too, leaning forward towards Lydia.

"We could probably test it," he says. "Like, fuck, I don't-- I don't know who with. We'd have to ask Jack. God, he'd probably want to come with, you know? Killing people's not illegal in his future. Everyone does it."

"Wait. How do you know that we can't?" Oh boy, here we go with this mess. "Did someone just tell you that or did you test it? Because, like, I don't trust shit anyone says here unless I know for certain." This is the worst and she is the worst.

Though she's squeaking as he leans towards her, not that she's backing away.

"Hold up. If the first thing isn't confirmed, necessarily, then we could test right here. Because I wonder, since I had to die to become a lich in the first place, if the same concept would apply here? Like, hear me out, I probably wouldn't have magic. But I'd still be the whole undead skeleton thing. Which is pretty bad-ass in its own right." STOP HER RIGHT NOW.

"Jack said it happened to him," Steven says and he doesn't say how it happened, because while being high is really good at numbing the things that need numbing, Jack did not-die in a way that's basically Steven's worst reoccurring nightmare and he doesn't want to think about his boyfriend being beaten to death.

"I mean. Fuck. I believe Jack? He's a lot of things but not a liar. Not to me." He bites his lip, because god the internal struggle right here, right now is real. He could. Do what he'd been longing to do. But to Lydia, who he quite frankly adores in an utterly platonic fashion. And it might not even work. God. She could be wrong about becoming at lich again too, if they've been made human.

"Do you-- fuck. Do you really want me to test it out on you, Lydia? Are you, fuck, completely sure? I mean, fuck, God, isn't this something to plan while sober?"

Edited 2020-04-04 05:19 (UTC)

She absolutely would be wrong about it, she knows well enough that other than a few quirks that this is a normal body and not an elf body. Either way, she doesn't seem particularly fussed about any of it and is merely waving off the whole Jack thing. She could not care less if he's right or wrong, the opportunity is right here and that's the really important part.

"Would I be suggesting a thing if I wasn't serious about it? If we don't die, then cool, I wake up in the Pokemon Center. Shouldn't be a problem. And, hey, if this gets my cool skeleton body back, then even better." It wouldn't be the first time she's died, after all. "Probably still a better way to go out than the two times I've died, anyway." Less fanfare. Less fighting. Less pain. She's sure it'll be fine.

Steven groans and pinches his nose. Somehow, despite the berry drugs that are still in his system, he doesn't feel so relaxed anymore.

"Fine," he says. "Fine. I'll do it for you, Lydia. But when you just pop up in the Goldenrod pokecenter after this, I'm going to tell you I told you so. Hold still, okay?"

And so he'll just fit his hands around her throat the way Jack taught him to—the practical kind of strangling, not the fun for the other person kind (because honestly both kinds are fun if you're the one strangling)—and he'll start to squeeze.

Typically no one would be calm in a situation like this, but she seems... fine with this whole mess right now.

"I know, I know." She's hoping she won't have to have that particular conversation. But, oddly enough, she seems... just fine with those whole strangling thing. Most people would have some kind of instinct kick in, but if she has, she doesn't show any of it. In fact, she's making it a bit nicer and just closing her eyes and focusing elsewhere.

She's been through worse deaths than this, after all, so what's one more on top of the pile? At least this one has a purpose behind it.

Sorry, Steven, you're getting to learn just how little she gives a shit about this life.

The thing is, by now Steven is actually used to people being fine with being strangled. Well, by people he mostly means Jack, who has a bit of a fetish for it, both giving and receiving.

It would be accurate to say that erotic asphyxiation had been a key component of their sex life this last month.

So when Lydia takes this so easily, closing her eyes, it reminds him of strangling Jack and Steven finds himself adjusting his hands subtly, to the position they would be in for sexy times with his boyfriend. And when she's seconds away from passing out—

Well. He lets go, pretty much on instinct.

Oops.

Edited 2020-04-04 18:43 (UTC)

You absolute failure, Steven.

The sudden ability to be able to breathe again is not what she wanted and for normally people would be pleasant and a relief. Not for her.

Once the blood comes back and the oxygen, her eyes are opening and just narrowing at him. Son. Of a. Bitch.

"What the fuck." At least there's that hoarse sound to her voice, but she's still obviously mad.

"Sorry!" Steven says hastily. "I'm just— that's when I'm used to letting go when I do it to Jack. It was, shit, instinctual." He takes a deep breath. Thinks.

"Fuck," he says. "Let me get— some cord or something. Something I wouldn't use on him. I'll garrote you. "

"I don't need to know what you do with him, oh my fucking god." She's actually hissing that and rubbing at her neck for a brief moment.

"Just hurry it up. I'm starting to get pissed off now." This is the actual worst fucking thing just to accomplish a moot point entirely.

"Right!" Steven says—and he lurches off to the side to retrieve said cord, only to loop it around her neck and start to pull.

He doesn't stop. Until suddenly—

Poof!

At least that was quicker.

Until she's out and... when she awakes in a Pokemon Center she's immediately punching the nearest wall with a loud curse in luckily a language no one in this place is going to recognize.

It doesn't take her too long to get back to where they were and she's just heavy handed knocking on that door. Son of a bitch.

Steven opens the door, looking altogether weary. "I am sorry," he says in lieu of a proper greeting, "but I did tell you so. Do you need to get fucked up again?"

Because it does occur to him that she might not be high anymore, if the poofing healed everything.

"I had to know for myself and even if I hadn't, I needed to know if I would get that form back. Spoilers: I'm still a human. Or, humanoid, anyway." She's huffing softly and just messing with the end of that long ponytail without really realizing it.

"And yes. Good to know that if you get poisoned or something, just die and you'll be fine."

"I mean, I can definitely see how we could make use of that," he says, guiding her inside and closing the door. "So. Booze or more drugs?"

After a moment he adds, "You know, I wonder if it counts as killing you if I was fairly sure you would just-- poof like that."

if we can call them friends then we can call them on their telephones

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TIMESKIP UNTIL THEY'RE GOOD AND TRULY FUCKED UP?

ABSOLUTELY

these terrible people i love them so much

The worst

Re: The worst

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Ffffff

PFFFT

Re: PFFFT

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