Multiversal travel can be disorienting, but there’s no need to worry! All side effects are temporary and lessen with each trip. Your body may experience several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You may have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer dizziness while others are perfectly fine. You notice that the area you are in is filled with a soft cerulean light and feels slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you. Regardless of your current state, however, the stress of transit forces your body into unconsciousness.
Waking up is another story. Or maybe it isn’t.
You find yourself in a nondescript room; sometimes with others who have found themselves in the same situation, sometimes alone. Welcome to Avagi Station, your new home.
Avagi
That First Step, it is a Doozy:
There are always risks to exploring new environments and Avagi is rich with new nooks and crannies to explore. You’re checking out a new corridor that’s been opened, though there have been signs warning that there are areas where structural stability has been weakened by neglect and the passage of time. But maybe things have been going well, you’ve found a few interesting things of note and you’re ready to head back to your bunk for the day.
Except when you turn to leave, the floor is giving way without a screech of metal. Hopefully you’ve got some good reflexes and can catch yourself before you topple down a shaft that seems to go down at least thirty or forty feet. Do you call for help or struggle to handle it on your own? And more importantly, how are you getting around this giant hole in the floor now that it’s there?
The Buddy System:
In order to help new arrivals find their bearings the more experienced residents on board have decided to try out the buddy system in order until the new arrivals get their space legs. The guide is responsible for answering any questions, showing them all the important facilities and making sure their new friend doesn’t wander anywhere too dangerous. And what better way to get to know your buddy than to try and help them find all the supplies they need to be comfortable in their new home? Hopefully the barter blocks have some clothes in your size or else it could get a little bit awkward come laundry day.
Shining Bright:
The Observation Station is the best place on Avagi to get a look at the storm that rages all around. However today when you stop by there’s something strange and new to look upon. It’s not clear if it’s a change in the environment or perhaps an effect of the living energy that opens the portals but the entire room is filled with softly glowing floating lights. If you venture into the room and dare to touch one of the lights you’ll find that you find a song playing in your mind that fills you with a deep and abiding sense of peace. What you do with that feeling is up to you but it seems that these lights aren’t going to cause any harm then why not let yourself relax in a beautiful space for a little while?
Kaittos
This month there is a portal to the planet Kaittos, a peaceful world containing one large land mass and a scattering of lived-on islands across a clear blue ocean. On the mainland, a large city-state occupies the central region and southern coast and resembles what some travelers from some versions of Earth might know of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Bustling and lively, the city is clean and well provided-for due to the temperate climate and the bountiful natural resources found on its northern side; orchards, farms and forests extend into the distance, butting up against a small mountain range. The technology level is low compared to Avagi, with carriages and candles in place rather than cars and electric lights, but the craftsmen of the world have managed some very impressive mechanical feats.
Kaittans, the local residents of the world appear somewhat humanoid, but the bipedal race has hooves rather than feet, silvery skin and three eyes with vertical pupils. Although there is no sign of any other sentient species in the world, the locals are nonetheless excited to meet their guests, rather than suspicious or afraid; for some reason, they are not surprised that aliens exist, merely that they are here.
Visitors are encouraged to explore the city and partake in an exchange of goods and ideas, to share their culture and stories with the locals. Perhaps there’s a merchant willing to trade a bauble for a story or you want to try something entirely unknown to your palette in the culinary quarter. The possibilities, while not quite limitless, are enough to keep the curious busy for quite a while.
(It had been a month. A month that wasn't awful, but with the memories, with how they had come and gone, it had been bad. And Eddie hadn't known if he'd ever see any of his friends ever again. The gasp he sucks down is wheezing and sharp, and Eddie closes his hands over his face to try and collect himself. (What if he hadn't made it?)
He splits open his fingers, wet eyes peeking out from between. Richie with his stupid glasses and Goddamn insistence on calling him Eds. He was here. In the flesh. Real. Not a memory, not a dream, not some fragment of some fucked up nightmare.
Eddie pulls his hands away from his face and he's grabbing Richie again, but this time it's to hold on and hug fiercely. He's not very strong, but that doesn't mean he can't grip something tight. He was not crying. Absolutely not. If Richie noticed a slight dampness on the shoulder of his shirt, that was purely sweat from anxiety.)
[Richie ignores the comment, as he often does, and focuses on more important things, like returning the hug. Richie holds fast, gently rubbing his friend's back. He might rib Eddie and the other Losers for a lot of things, but never for something like this.
Hell, he is pretty sure he needs this hug just as much, and it gives him a moment to collect himself.]
How long have you been here waiting to be a hero, huh? [It's meant to be a lighthearted, but it doesn't change the fact that he's surprised to see Eddie here at all.]
(Eventually, Eddie breaks the hug once he feels himself calm down a bit. He rubs his face a little against Richie's shirt just to make sure--. Then he leans back, shifting his hands to grip at Richie's shoulders. Eddie looks tired, his eyes dark and rimmed.)
A month.
(Technically not bad, but it was long when you were twelve years old, when you were remembering that you had just spent a summer almost dying with the best friends you knew you'd ever have.)
No one else. Just me.
(Because that- that was the worst part. No Losers.)
And I'm not a hero. I just. Moved. What were you doing? You have to be careful, Richie.
[Richie's brows furrow immediately, concern apparent. This isn't one of those things he can joke about--there's no way to make light of this situation. It doesn't seem possible for Eddie to have been here a month, because he swears he'd just seen him-- well, he's not sure when last, exactly, but surely it had been more recently than that.
But he believes Eddie--and it's not like Eddie has any reason to lie about this. Which just makes this entire thing all the more fucked up. There's a million things he needs to ask, but he manages to reign himself in to ask the most important one:]
Have you been okay? [There's nothing Richie can do about things that have already happened, but that doesn't stop him from fretting over this. Eddie, of all people, shouldn't have been alone--]
I was just looking around, it wasn't supposed to be a big deal.
(He really wished it was crazy, wished that it was all in his head. But this wasn't his asthma. Like Richie thought, it was some wild sci-fi adventure. Except it was real.
The question isn't shocking, but it makes Eddie's mouth hang open and his body goes a little stiff. He had already cried on Richie. The last thing he wanted to do was be a baby, tell Richie that no, he hasn't really been okay. That once he remembered everything, he felt awful for so many reasons, that he was paranoid and anxious all the time. He's too young and too inexperienced to properly form his thoughts into a neat little sentence.
Plus, it wasn't like it had been all bad. His mouth trembles shut and he gives a short nod.)
There's some good people here. Some of the adults actually seem like they care, which is kind of weird, and there's kids that are-. It's okay. It's been all right.
(Which doesn't totally answer the question, but it's the best Eddie's got right now.
Eddie narrows his eyes at Richie. He withdraws his hands and his arms go over his chest.)
Exploring a completely foreign place is always a big deal, Richie. You don't know where you're going. You could have wound up in some weird space trap that cut your legs off.
[Richie could push more, but for now the answer is good enough. He's sure he'll meet these people--he hopes so much that the adults are actually good, and not at all like Eddie's mom--and decide for himself. He can worry about all of this later.
Right now, he just wants to cheer Eddie up, or at least get them both to a point where they can pretend no near-death experiences just happened.]
If my legs did get cut off and I had to crawl around on the ground like a caterpillar, would you still love me?
[Let's not acknowledge that he really did make a mistake exploring over here, ok ok!]
(It really shouldn't make Eddie snort because what if Richie DID lose his legs!? But the thing is, it's been a month, a very long month without Richie Tozier, and he hadn't had his dumb jokes. It startles a gasping giggle from him, but he quickly slaps his hand over his mouth and tries to stop himself from actually laughing. He lowers the hand and refocuses his stern look.)
They give people without legs wheelchairs, stupid. (He sniffs then, and proceeds to get to his feet. Eddie holds both of his hands out to Richie.)
And no. You'd be ten times more annoying as a cripple than you are now.
[Richie takes Eddie's hands and pulls himself to his feet. There's another glance toward the massive hole, and then his attention is entirely on Eddie.]
I think I'd be a cool cripple. I'd learn how to do all the wheelchair tricks and stuff, until I lose my hands in a tragic motorized wheelchair accident.
(Please stop making him laugh. He is trying to be frustrated that Richie had almost gotten himself killed. Now that he's on his feet though, he is definitely pulling Richie far, far away from that edge.
Actually, he leads him all the way out of that corridor entirely and out back to where Eddie is more familiar with. Only then does he let go entirely.)
Motorized wheelchair? (He looks back at Richie with a bit of a confused look on his face. Motorized wheelchairs had only just barely been invented and properly utilized in 1956. Eddie having only just turned twelve in 1958? He hasn't seen too much of that at all in Derry. It wasn't like they advertised that on TV either.)
[Richie offers no protest to Eddie leading him to safety. There's no telling what'll break in this area next, and he really doesn't feel like dying, so...]
There's a battery, I think? [He doesn't know a lot about the mechanics, but more than anything, he's confused by Eddie's confusion. Surely he knows what Richie's talking about?] They've got those joysticks to control it? I bet slo-mo bumper cars with them would be fucking awesome.
(Eddie just keeps on staring at Richie with that same blank look of confusion. What was even more confusing was that normally, Eddie was the one who knew about this kind of stuff. Not Richie.
But did Richie maybe see something like that here? Well, that was possible. He relaxes somewhat, thinking about Charles. He hadn't looked too closely at his chair, but in a place where space travel was possible and where they had weird little devices to talk to each other on- well, why not?)
Maybe.
(It makes him feel weird all the same, like he's missing something. So he doesn't keep on subject, instead walking a bit more briskly.)
Do you want to see where I've been living? I'm totally on my own- isn't that cool? No adults. Just me. Obviously you can stay with me.
(This makes Eddie significantly more excited. Sleepovers with Richie weren't uncommon, but Eddie had always had to lie to his mom. Tell her that he was going to Bill's, or Ben's later on. Not Richie. Never Richie. And he had never had Richie spend the night. There's a bit of an excited skip to his step, and he's grinning, confusion of the wheelchair completely forgotten.)
We can build a blanket fort, and we can eat so much food we puke. It'll be great.
[Richie figures he's probably just explaining something wrong. But it doesn't matter, and it slips his mind entirely when Eddie continues. He can't help but excited. It's not every day that kids their age have the opportunity to stay alone, so Eddie inviting him to stay over is a big fucking deal. Especially with how infrequently it ever got to happen before.]
You're talking my language, Eds.
[He throws his arm over Eddie's shoulder as they walk.] We can also stay up all night and play games. Tell spooky stories. It'll be like a never-ending sleepover!
Sometimes I wonder if you know that my name's not actually Eds.
(He says this with a pinched mouth, but otherwise does nothing to shove Richie away. It's protocol at this point: Richie calls him Eds, and he bitches about it.)
Tell spooky stories. (He echoes with a flat look sent Richie's way.)
I know a kind of scary story about a clown.
(It was a horrible joke, but it'd almost feel worse not to make it.)
Basically. I do just about whatever here. There's not even school!
(If there was, he didn't know about it. No school was incredible. No school meant no adults, and no bullies. That was the life.)
I know that. [Said in a tone that indicates that he is just so astonished that Eddie might think otherwise.] It's Eds-ward.
Does it involve a dashing, bespectacled hero hitting the clown with a baseball bat? I like that one. [Leave to describe himself in such a positive manner even if he knows he's more on the weird side of the spectrum.]
Shiiiit, I wish I knew about this place earlier. [Not that he had any control over the timing of anything.] This is going to be like a never-ending summer vacation.
I hate you. (Said in a very matter-of-fact tone. It's also an utter lie.)
Something like that. (He'll amuse Richie if only for the fact that Eddie honestly didn't think they would have ever made it out of Derry alive if it weren't for all of them.)
It's a lot better than Derry, that's for sure.
(The only reason Eddie had even wanted to go back was because of his friends. He had shamefully admitted earlier that he was glad his mom wasn't around. Felt guilty because he knew she would be freaking out to know her son wasn't around. That he was in some place she could never reach. He doesn't mention this now, not when they're approaching his humble abode in the Chemistry section.
It doesn't really look like a proper living area. It looks like something straight out of the lab section in a sci-fi story. Flat metal everywhere. Eddie turns down a hall, walking past the shared bathrooms, and approaches a door. There's a small black turtle painted down on the corner of the door, and another turtle painted a few feet away from the door towards the floor. They're barely larger than a quarter, but they're there all the same. Eddie ducks under Richie's arm and stands in front of the door.)
Uh- just. (He awkwardly pauses.) I'm not crazy, okay, you know that, right? Well, at least like, not crazy like Juniper crazy. I mean, maybe a little, but not-. Just don't say anything, okay?
That's not saying much. Derry is a literal shithole.
[He's slightly quieter as they walk down the hall, distracted as he's glancing around. All of this will take some getting used to, but not necessarily in a bad way. It's just different, more different and out of this world than he'd ever imagined for himself.]
They don't do any poking and prodding here, do they? Like human experimentation. [It's not a serious question. It's just a comment stemming from this area's appearance. He notices the turtles, but he doesn't think much of it--
Really, he doesn't think much of anything until Eddie's guarding the door like there's something awful on the other side of the door. He peers over Eddie's shoulder to look at the door in obvious puzzlement before returning his attention to his friend.]
I know you're not crazy, Eddie. Crazy is like, your mom, or Henry Bowers or fucking Patrick Hockstetter. Not you. [He pauses, before continuing in a more earnest tone.] I won't say anything. Promise.
[Hopefully it's a promise he can keep. At the very least, he'll try.]
No, I think a literal shithole would still be better than Derry.
(Eddie's head spins on its axis and he has to laugh stupidly. He had literally just had that conversation with someone, about probing aliens and everything. He'd even drawn a stupid picture.)
I asked that too! There are aliens here, but so far none that want to do probing.
(The humor's dead pretty quick. He hasn't really shown anyone his room. Sans had been there when he'd done the paintings, but Sans had said it was a good idea. Eddie still agreed that it had been, but he knew what it could look like. He bites at his lip, staring at Richie. A small part of him wanted to laugh, because no, Richie, he was definitely a little crazy.
Now wasn't the time for that though. He pops open the door and slips inside, letting Richie in after him. He shuts the door quietly and feels a bit of anxiety rise up in his gut. It wasn't that bad at a glance. The room split off into two halls leading to smaller bedrooms. But the communal area had some things scattered about. Some toys he'd found at the market, some strange, soft colored clothing here and there, blankets, papers spread out over the floor in some piles. Some of his medicine was on a nearby counter.
And really, it didn't look that weird. But of course, Eddie was still standing by the door, and it was the door and the wall behind him that was the part he'd been nervous about. 'Derry' had been painted in his chicken scratch (neatest among the Losers- except for maybe Stan, and maybe Bev) above the door in decently large letters. But then the door itself had names in a long list on it. At the very top was Bill Denbrough, right beneath it, slightly larger, 'RICHIE TOZIER', and then down the list went, with the full name of each Loser.
But then there was Henry Bowers' name, Patrick's name, all of those bullies, Mr. Keene, Georgie, Eddie Corcoran. Then at the very bottom of the door was just a simple, shakily written 'IT'.
On either side of the door were painted things, random things. The Neibolt's house address, a thick exclamation of 'YOU ARE NOT SICK.' with the 'not' underlined three times, and perhaps most important was a simple: 'Don't forget the promise'.)
I uh- I can show you my room. I sort of have stuff everywhere.
[Richie promised he wouldn't say anything, and at first, it's easy. Eddie might have some things here and there and all over the place, but Richie's the sort who could actively live in a pigsty. The stretches of time when his parents aren't around--or don't actively tell him to clean up after himself--results in piles of dirty clothes, stacks of dishes in the sink, and a collection of snack wrappers and bags on the living room coffee table.
That's nothing.
But then he sees the doors. The names, the places, the phrases--it hits him like a freight. He doesn't have to ask what any of it means, he knows. Why is something else entirely. Richie isn't even sure if he wants to know the answer.
True to his word, though, he doesn't say anything. Not even the distraught Eds... that's in his thoughts in this exact moment. Instead, he walks further inside. Once he's close enough to Eddie, he throws his arms around him in another tight hug.
Eventually, he'll pull away, but only once he decides that he's been reassuring enough.]
(An older Eddie would have had a better time with getting all his memories back. The fear would have been the same, but there was a pretty huge difference between being grown up and remembering some friends you once had, and then being a kid and forgetting your best friends that you had just made a promise to. The guilt had been immense, the anxiety of his friends being in Derry where Eddie couldn't reach them if they ever had to come back--. There had been a lot of emotions there, a lot of thoughts, and Eddie had gotten paranoid that he'd forget again.
That's a lot to say, a lot to explain, and he's viciously grateful that Richie says nothing as promised. Eddie wasn't so sure he'd be able to properly explain himself. Not without needing to suck on his inhaler the entire time.
The hug isn't just a luxury, it's a necessity. His mind had been getting loud and hectic, and then there was Richie. Eddie instantly hugs back.
He couldn't begin to explain how glad he felt to have Richie there. To not be alone anymore. This hug lasts longer than the previous ones, because it felt more real with everything at his back. With Richie there, he wasn't so sure that he would have to worry as much about forgetting anymore.
Eventually though, Eddie does let go, and he's smiling. A little pale, maybe, but smiling at least.)
You can pick out your own room. Or share with me. There's some rooms but if everyone shows up here, I think we'd have to if we want to fit everyone.
(Because why would the Losers ever live with anyone else here but each other? He pivots to the right, leading Richie to his room.)
[Once the hug ends, Richie follows Eddie into the bedroom. Immediately, he makes himself at home by sitting on Eddie's bed. It's normal behavior for him, ignoring manners and decency, but he figures normal can only be a good thing right now.]
You really wouldn't mind sharing? It'd be even more like a sleepover if we did.
[Except it's really more that after hearing how long Eddie's been alone, he wants to be around for his friend as much as he can be.]
(Eddie doesn't mind because where else would he even sit? He plops right on down next to him, kicking his shoes off so he could pull his feet up and sit Indian style next to Richie. His room is about just as cluttered with little things here and there as the first room. Some weird looking flowers were pinned against the wall, hanging upside down, mostly dried out by now.
There was also a bright red scarf on Eddie's pillow, something that didn't look new at all, but certainly had never belonged to Eddie either.)
No? As long as you're not a total pig. (Which was asking for a small miracle, Eddie knew, but Richie was also his best friend so it felt natural to ask.)
I could always room with Stan or Bill too, but I don't think anyone else could actually tolerate sharing a space with you without wanting to kill you.
(One of them could have a room to themselves, Eddie was pretty sure, but...well. Wouldn't that go to Bev? After all- girl.)
I can clean up after myself just enough. [He might have to be reminded to do it given how easily distracted he is from things he doesn't want to do, but in theory, it's possible.]
I mean, it's your decision, you know? It's your room. Though I gotta say, I'm really into not being killed in my sleep.
[He leans back, propping himself up with his arms resting behind him while kicking his legs idly.] Isn't pulling straws more for shit you don't wanna do?
(Eddie considers Richie seriously for a second, and then he shrugs, nodding.)
Yeah, I know. (Or at least he speculates that there's hope for Richie yet. For all of Eddie's hypochondria, he wasn't a neat-freak like Stan. Though Richie might get his head chewed off for anything gross (the usual, really)- but Eddie's pretty confident that it'd be fine.
Richie's got a point. Eddie had found this place, had been living in it. Technically Richie could just pick out a room and call it a day. But Eddie was thinking bigger picture here. He bounces his knees up and down and finally shrugs.)
You're my best friend. I'd probably be hanging out in your room all the time anyway or the other way around. (Or they'd be out together doing stuff. That's how it was back in Derry. Their gang, as a general rule of thumb, just stuck together.)
And like, I really don't mind.
(If Richie was as grating as Eddie acted like he was, they wouldn't be as close as they were, was the thing. His expression has softened because frankly, he doesn't want Richie to think he's not wanted, and maybe he had been pushing it more than he had to. He had no problem rooming with Stan or Bill, but he couldn't lie and act like Richie wasn't his first choice.)
Plus. I'd feel better if you were close. (Eddie admits this with a bit of an embarrassed look on his face. He picks at the hem of his shirt, tugging at a stray thread.)
[His expression brightens immediately. He really would've been okay staying anywhere else--that's what they'd done in Derry, after all, with having to live with their own families in different parts of town. It would have been like normal, except in a completely new and strange place, with Richie knowing no one else.
But he's a lot happier with being able to share a room instead. It'll be better with both of them, until they get to a point where they start driving each other crazy.]
Me too. [And just to emphasize that, he nearly barrels Eddie over in another hug, but this time it's coupled with him trying to tug on one of his cheeks.]
(As if they didn't drive each other crazy on a daily basis already. The real challenge would be not driving the rest of the Losers crazy by them always being together. Why?
Welp. Eddie shrieks the moment Richie barrels unexpectedly into him, his hands flailing.)
Richie! Stop that! (He wails as Richie grabs at his cheek.
That is the exact thing the Losers would all get to look forward to.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
savmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_ooc2017-11-17 07:40 pm
no subject
He splits open his fingers, wet eyes peeking out from between. Richie with his stupid glasses and Goddamn insistence on calling him Eds. He was here. In the flesh. Real. Not a memory, not a dream, not some fragment of some fucked up nightmare.
Eddie pulls his hands away from his face and he's grabbing Richie again, but this time it's to hold on and hug fiercely. He's not very strong, but that doesn't mean he can't grip something tight. He was not crying. Absolutely not. If Richie noticed a slight dampness on the shoulder of his shirt, that was purely sweat from anxiety.)
Don't- Don't call me that.
no subject
Hell, he is pretty sure he needs this hug just as much, and it gives him a moment to collect himself.]
How long have you been here waiting to be a hero, huh? [It's meant to be a lighthearted, but it doesn't change the fact that he's surprised to see Eddie here at all.]
no subject
A month.
(Technically not bad, but it was long when you were twelve years old, when you were remembering that you had just spent a summer almost dying with the best friends you knew you'd ever have.)
No one else. Just me.
(Because that- that was the worst part. No Losers.)
And I'm not a hero. I just. Moved. What were you doing? You have to be careful, Richie.
no subject
[Richie's brows furrow immediately, concern apparent. This isn't one of those things he can joke about--there's no way to make light of this situation. It doesn't seem possible for Eddie to have been here a month, because he swears he'd just seen him-- well, he's not sure when last, exactly, but surely it had been more recently than that.
But he believes Eddie--and it's not like Eddie has any reason to lie about this. Which just makes this entire thing all the more fucked up. There's a million things he needs to ask, but he manages to reign himself in to ask the most important one:]
Have you been okay? [There's nothing Richie can do about things that have already happened, but that doesn't stop him from fretting over this. Eddie, of all people, shouldn't have been alone--]
I was just looking around, it wasn't supposed to be a big deal.
no subject
(He really wished it was crazy, wished that it was all in his head. But this wasn't his asthma. Like Richie thought, it was some wild sci-fi adventure. Except it was real.
The question isn't shocking, but it makes Eddie's mouth hang open and his body goes a little stiff. He had already cried on Richie. The last thing he wanted to do was be a baby, tell Richie that no, he hasn't really been okay. That once he remembered everything, he felt awful for so many reasons, that he was paranoid and anxious all the time. He's too young and too inexperienced to properly form his thoughts into a neat little sentence.
Plus, it wasn't like it had been all bad. His mouth trembles shut and he gives a short nod.)
There's some good people here. Some of the adults actually seem like they care, which is kind of weird, and there's kids that are-. It's okay. It's been all right.
(Which doesn't totally answer the question, but it's the best Eddie's got right now.
Eddie narrows his eyes at Richie. He withdraws his hands and his arms go over his chest.)
Exploring a completely foreign place is always a big deal, Richie. You don't know where you're going. You could have wound up in some weird space trap that cut your legs off.
no subject
Right now, he just wants to cheer Eddie up, or at least get them both to a point where they can pretend no near-death experiences just happened.]
If my legs did get cut off and I had to crawl around on the ground like a caterpillar, would you still love me?
[Let's not acknowledge that he really did make a mistake exploring over here, ok ok!]
no subject
They give people without legs wheelchairs, stupid. (He sniffs then, and proceeds to get to his feet. Eddie holds both of his hands out to Richie.)
And no. You'd be ten times more annoying as a cripple than you are now.
no subject
I think I'd be a cool cripple. I'd learn how to do all the wheelchair tricks and stuff, until I lose my hands in a tragic motorized wheelchair accident.
no subject
Actually, he leads him all the way out of that corridor entirely and out back to where Eddie is more familiar with. Only then does he let go entirely.)
Motorized wheelchair? (He looks back at Richie with a bit of a confused look on his face. Motorized wheelchairs had only just barely been invented and properly utilized in 1956. Eddie having only just turned twelve in 1958? He hasn't seen too much of that at all in Derry. It wasn't like they advertised that on TV either.)
Like...car motorized?
no subject
There's a battery, I think? [He doesn't know a lot about the mechanics, but more than anything, he's confused by Eddie's confusion. Surely he knows what Richie's talking about?] They've got those joysticks to control it? I bet slo-mo bumper cars with them would be fucking awesome.
no subject
But did Richie maybe see something like that here? Well, that was possible. He relaxes somewhat, thinking about Charles. He hadn't looked too closely at his chair, but in a place where space travel was possible and where they had weird little devices to talk to each other on- well, why not?)
Maybe.
(It makes him feel weird all the same, like he's missing something. So he doesn't keep on subject, instead walking a bit more briskly.)
Do you want to see where I've been living? I'm totally on my own- isn't that cool? No adults. Just me. Obviously you can stay with me.
(This makes Eddie significantly more excited. Sleepovers with Richie weren't uncommon, but Eddie had always had to lie to his mom. Tell her that he was going to Bill's, or Ben's later on. Not Richie. Never Richie. And he had never had Richie spend the night. There's a bit of an excited skip to his step, and he's grinning, confusion of the wheelchair completely forgotten.)
We can build a blanket fort, and we can eat so much food we puke. It'll be great.
no subject
You're talking my language, Eds.
[He throws his arm over Eddie's shoulder as they walk.] We can also stay up all night and play games. Tell spooky stories. It'll be like a never-ending sleepover!
no subject
(He says this with a pinched mouth, but otherwise does nothing to shove Richie away. It's protocol at this point: Richie calls him Eds, and he bitches about it.)
Tell spooky stories. (He echoes with a flat look sent Richie's way.)
I know a kind of scary story about a clown.
(It was a horrible joke, but it'd almost feel worse not to make it.)
Basically. I do just about whatever here. There's not even school!
(If there was, he didn't know about it. No school was incredible. No school meant no adults, and no bullies. That was the life.)
no subject
Does it involve a dashing, bespectacled hero hitting the clown with a baseball bat? I like that one. [Leave to describe himself in such a positive manner even if he knows he's more on the weird side of the spectrum.]
Shiiiit, I wish I knew about this place earlier. [Not that he had any control over the timing of anything.] This is going to be like a never-ending summer vacation.
no subject
Something like that. (He'll amuse Richie if only for the fact that Eddie honestly didn't think they would have ever made it out of Derry alive if it weren't for all of them.)
It's a lot better than Derry, that's for sure.
(The only reason Eddie had even wanted to go back was because of his friends. He had shamefully admitted earlier that he was glad his mom wasn't around. Felt guilty because he knew she would be freaking out to know her son wasn't around. That he was in some place she could never reach. He doesn't mention this now, not when they're approaching his humble abode in the Chemistry section.
It doesn't really look like a proper living area. It looks like something straight out of the lab section in a sci-fi story. Flat metal everywhere. Eddie turns down a hall, walking past the shared bathrooms, and approaches a door. There's a small black turtle painted down on the corner of the door, and another turtle painted a few feet away from the door towards the floor. They're barely larger than a quarter, but they're there all the same. Eddie ducks under Richie's arm and stands in front of the door.)
Uh- just. (He awkwardly pauses.) I'm not crazy, okay, you know that, right? Well, at least like, not crazy like Juniper crazy. I mean, maybe a little, but not-. Just don't say anything, okay?
no subject
[He's slightly quieter as they walk down the hall, distracted as he's glancing around. All of this will take some getting used to, but not necessarily in a bad way. It's just different, more different and out of this world than he'd ever imagined for himself.]
They don't do any poking and prodding here, do they? Like human experimentation. [It's not a serious question. It's just a comment stemming from this area's appearance. He notices the turtles, but he doesn't think much of it--
Really, he doesn't think much of anything until Eddie's guarding the door like there's something awful on the other side of the door. He peers over Eddie's shoulder to look at the door in obvious puzzlement before returning his attention to his friend.]
I know you're not crazy, Eddie. Crazy is like, your mom, or Henry Bowers or fucking Patrick Hockstetter. Not you. [He pauses, before continuing in a more earnest tone.] I won't say anything. Promise.
[Hopefully it's a promise he can keep. At the very least, he'll try.]
no subject
(Eddie's head spins on its axis and he has to laugh stupidly. He had literally just had that conversation with someone, about probing aliens and everything. He'd even drawn a stupid picture.)
I asked that too! There are aliens here, but so far none that want to do probing.
(The humor's dead pretty quick. He hasn't really shown anyone his room. Sans had been there when he'd done the paintings, but Sans had said it was a good idea. Eddie still agreed that it had been, but he knew what it could look like. He bites at his lip, staring at Richie. A small part of him wanted to laugh, because no, Richie, he was definitely a little crazy.
Now wasn't the time for that though. He pops open the door and slips inside, letting Richie in after him. He shuts the door quietly and feels a bit of anxiety rise up in his gut. It wasn't that bad at a glance. The room split off into two halls leading to smaller bedrooms. But the communal area had some things scattered about. Some toys he'd found at the market, some strange, soft colored clothing here and there, blankets, papers spread out over the floor in some piles. Some of his medicine was on a nearby counter.
And really, it didn't look that weird. But of course, Eddie was still standing by the door, and it was the door and the wall behind him that was the part he'd been nervous about. 'Derry' had been painted in his chicken scratch (neatest among the Losers- except for maybe Stan, and maybe Bev) above the door in decently large letters. But then the door itself had names in a long list on it. At the very top was Bill Denbrough, right beneath it, slightly larger, 'RICHIE TOZIER', and then down the list went, with the full name of each Loser.
But then there was Henry Bowers' name, Patrick's name, all of those bullies, Mr. Keene, Georgie, Eddie Corcoran. Then at the very bottom of the door was just a simple, shakily written 'IT'.
On either side of the door were painted things, random things. The Neibolt's house address, a thick exclamation of 'YOU ARE NOT SICK.' with the 'not' underlined three times, and perhaps most important was a simple: 'Don't forget the promise'.)
I uh- I can show you my room. I sort of have stuff everywhere.
no subject
That's nothing.
But then he sees the doors. The names, the places, the phrases--it hits him like a freight. He doesn't have to ask what any of it means, he knows. Why is something else entirely. Richie isn't even sure if he wants to know the answer.
True to his word, though, he doesn't say anything. Not even the distraught Eds... that's in his thoughts in this exact moment. Instead, he walks further inside. Once he's close enough to Eddie, he throws his arms around him in another tight hug.
Eventually, he'll pull away, but only once he decides that he's been reassuring enough.]
Lead the way, señor.
no subject
That's a lot to say, a lot to explain, and he's viciously grateful that Richie says nothing as promised. Eddie wasn't so sure he'd be able to properly explain himself. Not without needing to suck on his inhaler the entire time.
The hug isn't just a luxury, it's a necessity. His mind had been getting loud and hectic, and then there was Richie. Eddie instantly hugs back.
He couldn't begin to explain how glad he felt to have Richie there. To not be alone anymore. This hug lasts longer than the previous ones, because it felt more real with everything at his back. With Richie there, he wasn't so sure that he would have to worry as much about forgetting anymore.
Eventually though, Eddie does let go, and he's smiling. A little pale, maybe, but smiling at least.)
You can pick out your own room. Or share with me. There's some rooms but if everyone shows up here, I think we'd have to if we want to fit everyone.
(Because why would the Losers ever live with anyone else here but each other? He pivots to the right, leading Richie to his room.)
no subject
You really wouldn't mind sharing? It'd be even more like a sleepover if we did.
[Except it's really more that after hearing how long Eddie's been alone, he wants to be around for his friend as much as he can be.]
no subject
There was also a bright red scarf on Eddie's pillow, something that didn't look new at all, but certainly had never belonged to Eddie either.)
No? As long as you're not a total pig. (Which was asking for a small miracle, Eddie knew, but Richie was also his best friend so it felt natural to ask.)
I could always room with Stan or Bill too, but I don't think anyone else could actually tolerate sharing a space with you without wanting to kill you.
(One of them could have a room to themselves, Eddie was pretty sure, but...well. Wouldn't that go to Bev? After all- girl.)
I guess we could always draw straws too.
no subject
I can clean up after myself just enough. [He might have to be reminded to do it given how easily distracted he is from things he doesn't want to do, but in theory, it's possible.]
I mean, it's your decision, you know? It's your room. Though I gotta say, I'm really into not being killed in my sleep.
[He leans back, propping himself up with his arms resting behind him while kicking his legs idly.] Isn't pulling straws more for shit you don't wanna do?
no subject
Yeah, I know. (Or at least he speculates that there's hope for Richie yet. For all of Eddie's hypochondria, he wasn't a neat-freak like Stan. Though Richie might get his head chewed off for anything gross (the usual, really)- but Eddie's pretty confident that it'd be fine.
Richie's got a point. Eddie had found this place, had been living in it. Technically Richie could just pick out a room and call it a day. But Eddie was thinking bigger picture here. He bounces his knees up and down and finally shrugs.)
You're my best friend. I'd probably be hanging out in your room all the time anyway or the other way around. (Or they'd be out together doing stuff. That's how it was back in Derry. Their gang, as a general rule of thumb, just stuck together.)
And like, I really don't mind.
(If Richie was as grating as Eddie acted like he was, they wouldn't be as close as they were, was the thing. His expression has softened because frankly, he doesn't want Richie to think he's not wanted, and maybe he had been pushing it more than he had to. He had no problem rooming with Stan or Bill, but he couldn't lie and act like Richie wasn't his first choice.)
Plus. I'd feel better if you were close. (Eddie admits this with a bit of an embarrassed look on his face. He picks at the hem of his shirt, tugging at a stray thread.)
no subject
But he's a lot happier with being able to share a room instead. It'll be better with both of them, until they get to a point where they start driving each other crazy.]
Me too. [And just to emphasize that, he nearly barrels Eddie over in another hug, but this time it's coupled with him trying to tug on one of his cheeks.]
no subject
Welp. Eddie shrieks the moment Richie barrels unexpectedly into him, his hands flailing.)
Richie! Stop that! (He wails as Richie grabs at his cheek.
That is the exact thing the Losers would all get to look forward to.)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)