sixthiterationlogs | [MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

[MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

WHERE: 6I Village and Inn
WHEN: 27-31 July
OPEN TO: ALL - Mingle
NOTES: The Wendigo threatening the village will be killed mid 28 July, with a Blue Lily, per these threads. Plot details here. Note: The final fight is close enough to be seen from the upstairs inn windows.
WARNINGS: Wendigo attack mingle, please warn in comment headers if discussing violence, gore, or related trauma. Possible mentions of character death.

The urgent warnings come from villagers returning south from the lake: a creature twice the size of a man, antlered and voracious. Larger than any they've seen on the plains, stalking its way to the main village. Some might have their own names for this hunger in a skin of shadow; others might remember that it was the first to claim a life, in their village's short history.

Whatever context one has for it, best to secure all pets and loved ones before it arrives. With weapons and food stores at the inn, the call goes out to gather — And to bring back any tools, because there's no telling what doors and windows can do to stop such a creature.

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That Frank gets, so all he can do is nod, holding onto her arm for a beat too long before ducking past her to lead the way into the kitchen. Once he's leaning against the counter in a place he's reasonably sure will be out of her way, he crosses his arms and tries to ask again about how she's been.

"How'd you make out with all the storms?"

Knowing it was going to be a long night (or two), Claire made sure to bring some of her stash of gifted coffee and her camp stove coffee maker to help her and whoever else get through it. As she prepares it, she thinks about Frank's question briefly before her face gives it away. She could lie and tell him she made out fine, but the nurse didn't think there was a reason to. The important thing was that she was fine now, mostly.

"I was hit by lightning," she nodded, dropping a few spoonfuls of the ground coffee into the filter. "Both my eardrums ruptured and I have some scarring, but I'm okay. A friend was gifted with a rejuvenating drink from his world and I used the springs to heal faster."

She looks at Frank. "What about you?"

A pang of guilt hits him square in the chest - he hadn't had any idea. He's been so focused on himself lately, or at least that's how he sees it. He'd actually saved three people from the lightning singlehandedly, but he should have been able to save Claire. She looks okay, safe now, but Frank reaches out again to settle a big hand on her arm.

"You could've messaged me. I'm sorry I didn't check on you."

Newsflash: this is literally all his fault now.

Okay, maybe she should have lied...

She stops what she's doing and turns slightly, putting her other hand to cover his appreciatively. But her brows narrow and she shakes her head.

"You don't have to be sorry for that, Frank," she told him, her voice soft but firm. She couldn't let him take any fault for not saving her from something as unpredictable as lightning. "And I would have messaged you, but.."

He knew how much was going on and she didn't want people seeing her down again so soon after her three days of being sick, which is why she put so much focus on getting better on her own.

"But you're stubborn as hell so you didn't." Just a guess. Based on history and the fact that he's the same exact way. He leaves his hand there when she traps it and tries not to read into the fact that he's breathing a little easier because of it. "That lightning was nasty. I almost got smoked a few times."

He ended up with wacky lightning powers instead, like he needed multiple superpowers. As if. Frank worries his lip, still disturbed about what happened with the Wendigo, but they haven't spoken in too long. He knows how much can happen in a short time, he should have been more proactive.

"This place changed me. I can... sense things now. I don't know how to explain it."

Close, but not entirely all of it. He has a lot of people in the village that he cares about and wants to protect and the last thing she wants to feel is resentment from him because he was checking up on her when someone else was in trouble.

She was fine now, that's what mattered and she had no plans on getting hurt or sick anytime soon. Now she was keeping her eye on everyone she cared about.

"Bad things? Or just in general?" she asks, turning more towards him.

"Danger, yeah." He licks his lips then realizes he's still holding onto her and lets go, eyes dancing away from hers a little wildly. "Like if something's gonna hurt me or someone near me, I just-- I just know."

Which adds another layer to why he blames himself for what happened to Claire.

"This sounds dumb, doesn't it?"

Claire wishes he didn't do that and looks down where his hand was. It's the contact that grounds her; makes her feel less alone and the absence of it again brings her right back to how she felt embracing him.

She shakes her head and looks up again.

"I can take people's pain, physically and emotionally, onto myself through contact," she tells him. "So, no, it doesn't."

"Oh," he says dumbly at first. And he'd just been touching her, could she feel...? Frank swallows, thinking of Tetora. Thinking of other freaky psychic powers he'd witnessed. Then he thinks of Jessica and her force-field. Does that mean everyone gets something like this? "That sounds exhausting." Frank can barely even handle his own pain, and that's on a good day.

She felt something, but it was hard to distinguish what exactly it was. Mostly, she had forgotten it was there because touching people wasn't something she did often, which was odd considering her job.

"So does sensing danger, especially around here," Claire said, glancing back to the half-prepared coffee before stepping back over to it. "I wish I had that one instead."

Mostly because of her luck as of late.

"Yeah," he acknowledges, it has been exhausting. His regular strength paranoia was already enough to send him off the rails on a good day, now he had the super potent kind you could only get with a prescription and under the close watch of your pharmacist. "I'd trade you if I could."

Especially since Frank usually goes out of his way not to touch either. He sighs, already feeling like they're out of topics except for the obvious one. Karen. He'd rather not if he could help it, too.

She can feel that slow crawl to where Frank up and disappears and though the coffee isn't ready, Claire doesn't want him to go yet.

And while she has been meaning to ask how things have been going with the two of them, she knows better. So, she won't be bringing that up with him.

While the coffee does it thing, she moves back and realizes in this light it's easier to see his face and any injury she might have missed, so she stands damn near in front of him.

"Did you go out there?"

Oh, hello, that's close. He's not uncomfortable because it's her, but it makes him have to duck his head just a bit to meet her eyes. There are dark circles under his, but none of his usual bruising.

"Yeah, I've been out most of the month." He shrugs a little helplessly. "The rain makes it easier to get things done."

It doesn't make sense. Especially with the crazy thunderstorms. Except - did she mean when the Wendigo was at large?

"Today? No. I was at home watching the animals." He ain't afraid of no ghosts!! Except for how he super, super is.

She's comfortable being where she is and maybe that's because of the profession she's chosen. It's something she doesn't think about, really.

Those dark circles worry her, which she can only assume is because he hasn't been sleeping well. Yet, he strikes her as the type to get only what he needs and forego the rest but one day it would eventually catch up with him.

"I'm worried about you, Frank. You look like the walking dead." she told him.

He was used to proximity like this once, in the unit - overseas. Someone sleeping two inches from him. It was harder when he was back, big house, big bed. A family he couldn't relate to. Frank does his best to shrug off her concern even though a moment ago he'd been worried about her just the same. He never claimed not to be a hypocrite.

"Maybe that's the aesthetic I was going for." It wasn't.

Claire could have let that go - had in the past with others and sure, Frank was who he was, but she was who she was and that answer had her shaking her head, clearly getting a little frustrated.

She won't push, and after a long second, she admits defeat and steps away. This isn't her first rodeo or her second. Shit, it isn't even her third.

And now she's asking herself why she even bothers?

"Okay," she says, surrendering at first but right before she opens the cupboard to get some coffee she shakes her head again. "No. You know what? You don't get to do that. You don't get to be a hypocrite.

It's a two-way street. You care and get to be cared about."

Oh, she was absolutely going to call him on that bullshit.

He should have expected that. Frank shrinks back as she rounds on him, crossing his arms over his chest like they would protect him from the (very true) barbs. It's always been his problem: accepting help, offering too much of himself. Frank swallows, already worn down though she's barely started.

"Okay," he says simply, though his voice wavers as his equally shaky gaze seeks hers out as she turns back to the coffee maker. "We look out for each other. Two-way street."

If it sounds like something he's been yelled at before, it is. And if it sounds like a prefab answer, it sure is. Still, he's trying to be sincere. He hopes he can keep up his end of the bargain, but in reality, he knows the second it's appropriate he'll be throwing himself on his own sword. She'd be better off not caring for him at all, but he knows it doesn't work that way for Claire either.

The way Frank holds himself makes her heart drop a little but she can't be sorry for reminding him that he was needed. Not just when things went wrong or when someone who needed saving and she knew how hard that sometimes was to convey.

Claire looks down as Frank talks and it's hard not to be disappointed at the answer he was giving her. It made her feel, once again, like she did when she talked to Matt.

Heard, but not really; a broken record.

She couldn't do it again.

"Yeah," Claire nods for longer than she should have and it was clear she was upset. And still, without looking at him she points at the coffee on the stove that's ready now. "Um -- I have to go check on something but, help yourself."

She turns away and heads towards the door, unsure of where she was going to go but needing some space.

"Claire, wait-" he manages to push past his cracked voice, but she's already gone. He should go after her, maybe. Or maybe that's the worst thing he could do, honestly. It's not like he'd know the difference. Frank sits with a heavy sigh, forgetting his vow of silence even alone, and waits for the coffee to brew. You're his only friend left, caffeine. Thank God you don't have legs.

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[MINGLE] Wendi-go-go to the inn

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