[MINGLE] PLOT: Siren's Call

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: Anywhere
WHEN: August 25-26
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Mental manipulation, drowning, death
NOTES: Details here. This post is for EVERYONE, not just the affected. Please make sure and note if your thread is locked for plot purposes.

---

It began slowly.

A wisp of song or familiar sound on the breeze swept in from the lake. No source to be found, only the uneasy feeling it had been heard before as it coiled itself steadily inside the minds of the chosen. The sound was a mantra, pulsing soft at first and then louder, growing over days until it seemed to fill the skull, relentless. Come here, the lake whispered, cajoled, shouted. It is cool and quiet beneath the waves.

Come here, it presses now in time with the melody until there is nothing but to blindly follow. The water is calling.

Comments

Rose ][ Closed to Sirius

[littledhampir]

[CW Mental Health, Possible Violence. Possibly other things too. I may add an open part to this for the 26th but would rather see how this is playing out first. Characters are all, of course, welcome to have witnessed what happens.]

It was supposed to be a good day. Later, when the quiet enveloped her and she had time to look back on what had happened. Rose would remember that. It was one of those rare days when she’d woken up with a sense of purpose, maybe even hope of something good coming their way. What she’d also remember is the niggling feeling of doubt that had tugged at the corner of her mind. The one that had whispered silent warnings in her head all through her run and again as she attempted to eat breakfast. She’d gotten a sense in the time since she’d first arrived here that things weren’t allowed to be good for very long but she’d allowed herself a few moments to think, just maybe? It didn’t have to always be awful.

Her long dark hair, whipped around her face as Rose sprinted through the South Village. No time was taken to even hastily pull it back, before she’d set off into a run. She hadn’t asked any questions when she’d caught the first murmurings of something happening at the lake. She knew Elena would be there, just as surely as she should have known that she was already too late.

The sound of her feet hitting the bridge she’d avoided since the day she first arrived, fell into a rhythm with the blood that drummed in her ears as she pushed her body into motion. The ache of a recently eaten meal barely noticed as she allowed her legs to carry her, any consideration of time and distance lost to the single-minded need to lay eyes on one of the few real friends she had here.

It never once occurred to her that by the time she reached the edge of the shore, there would be nothing she could do. As long as she was moving, there was still that foolish hope that she’d be able to make it okay. Even as she heard Elena’s name pass the lips of several people she flew past, she wanted to believe there was a chance. She needed to, even. The alternative just wasn’t something Rose was ready to consider, let alone willing to accept.

“Elena!”

She never stopped, not even as she crested the hill that slopes toward the water's edge, Rose allowing momentum to carry her as she headed straight for the too still lake. She was vaguely aware of nobody doing anything. Standing around, in varying stages of shock or grief but not one of them appeared to be trying to help the girl that was said to be in there.

Drowned. She’d heard somebody say it. That one word scraping at the inside of her head but she’d refused to believe that of all the people here, that could happen to Elena. Not after everything the other girl had been through. Not after the cruelty of her arrival and subsequent return. Not to the girl who would sooner face down a Wendigo on her own than be sent to a watery grave.

“ELENA!.”

It’s the water that finally slows her as her feet sink into the softened ground. Her body becoming weighed down by the damp as she tries to reach somebody who is no longer there.

[reprobate]

As it turns out, freeloading actually isn't something that particularly appeals to Sirius on a long enough timeline. Back home, before Azkaban, he simply paid for whatever he needed and quite a lot that he didn't, and thanks to Uncle Alphard, there'd barely been a blip between the time he was spending his parents' money and when he was spending his own.

Here, though, it's quite a bit different, and manual labor really isn't something Sirius Black does.

Picking peaches seems like an easier proposition than getting his knees in the dirt to dig up carrots and potatoes, and it's a walk he might make on a normal day anyway. It feels appropriate, too, that the peaches are enchanted, and after a few hours of languidly picking his way through the little grove, he has a pillowcase full of them to sling over his skinny shoulder and carry back to the inn.

He isn't even aware of anything happening until he approaches the main road from the spindly path leading back to the grove, and catches sight of Rose sprinting past. There's an urgency in the forward press of her body, the slap of her feet on dirt, and he frowns as the sack slides from his shoulder and thumps to the ground. Peaches spin out across the path, but he doesn't notice, already taking off after her.

"Rose?" he calls, but knows it's no good, and follows at full pelt by the time his feet hit the main road.

The scene at the lake's edge is chaos, people blinking themselves from a daze, some of them soaked and coughing up water as they splash back to shore. She drowned, one of them says, Elena drowned. In the distance, a little building sits poised above the gentle waves, sunlight blinking sharp against its windows.

It definitely was not there before, but there's no time to think about that now.

"ROSE!" he barks, but she doesn't hear him or doesn't care. He surges in after her, his arms fixing across her chest from behind. "She's gone, love," he huffs against her ear. "She's gone."

[littledhampir]

She has this vague awareness of the noise and movement around her, but it’s almost like she’s already underwater. Everything drowned out by the sound of her blood rushing through her body, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she tries to surge deeper. Her movements look uncoordinated, like she hasn’t figured out that she can’t keep running. The disconnect between her body and mind, keeping her from trying to swim instead

It’s not that she can’t hear Sirius, or even feel him at her back but it's as if he’s trying to halt the momentum of an unstoppable force, Rose managing to shift them a few inches deeper before the struggle causes her feet to lose traction in the silt.

“Let me go.” The guttural demand rips at her throat as soon as she registers the arms that bind her, Rose trying to tear herself free even though they both know she's capable of putting him down. There is no training at this moment, though, no calculated moves to get to her target. All she has is the knowledge that Elena is in there and she has to get to her.

She has to. She has to. She has to.

“Let me GO!”

Liv Moore | OTA

[living_proof]

I don't know how I got in the water.

When I come to, it's slowly, my awareness briefly drifting as I squint against the wink of afternoon sunlight on the waves. I look down, marveling at the water lapping against my hip, and then startle at the sound of a jagged yell.

Twisting, I can see figures all along the shoreline behind me, some as dazed as I am, others bent over or seated on the sand with their head in their hands. How did I get here? I was walking to the inn, I remember that much, and then...

The water. I needed to get to the water.

I've had this inexplicable earworm in my head for days, a Simon & Garfunkel tune on a loop —

Have her wash it in yonder dry well
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme
where water ne'er sprung nor drop of rain fell
And then she'll be a true love of mine

Dreamy and sweet, not really terrible as these things go. But today it had changed.

Where water ne'er sprung
Where water
The water
water water
waterwaterwaterwater

I pull in a sharp breath, my shoulders hitching forward, mind still swimming. I need to get out of this water, right now. In my haste, my feet catch in the sinking silt and down I go, right up to my neck. Gasping, I scramble backwards, kicking up a froth around me.

[freightcars]

He's a few yards behind her, deeper out and just starting to blink by the time she gets her awareness around her. Doesn't know- doesn't remember how in the hell he got here and that is a truly terrifying thing for James Barnes. He'd been- what, where had he been? Chopping wood, maybe, and faint music playing in the background from somewhere. Someone with a record player, probably, because he can vividly recall knowing the song.

I don't want to set the world on fire, I just want to start... a flame in your heart...

Beautiful, lulling, warm, sweet. He remembers a sense of calm and comfort. He remembers it almost put him to sleep, like melting wax on a candle.

And then abrupt, splashing wetness. Screaming, distantly, from somewhere. The sound of a dozen panicked people and, for a second, stupidly, he thinks it's because the bombs are coming down and he's not in a bunker, he's out in a trench-

And water fills his mouth. A metal arm drags him down-ward like an anchor, his body having done nothing to counter it. He dips beneath the surface. It's a wake-up call, though, it gets him kicking through sheer instinct, propelling himself back up and gasping, choking, spluttering silty lake water. He flails, reaches, finds no purchase and nothing to grab.

Солдат выживет.
Учитесь и реагируйте.

Without meaning to, he propels himself forward into a breaststroke. It's enough, this steady moving, it's enough for him to get his mind right for a second, and he stops closer to shore to look around, wet hair whipping as he searches for familiar faces in the water. It's hard to miss a shock of white hair stumbling forth, and he's there a minute later wrapping an arm around her waist. Hauling her forth, stumbling with her out of the water, panting and breathless and still in shock.

[living_proof]

I'm not what most people would call a damsel in distress. Where I come from, with the condition I have, I tend to save myself just fine most of the time. But I can't deny that the moment those arms slide around me, the relief is so palpable that a sob actually bubbles up from my throat, muffled against the wet collar of Bucky's shirt.

I wasn't drowning, I would have eventually made it, but I'm just so damned glad to be out of that water.

"I don't know what happened, I don't— I was just there, and I— Oh my god," I pant out, allowing myself that fragile moment, that open vulnerability as I clutch at him. But then I hear more cries, blink damp lashes over Bucky's shoulder and see again the people there on the shore, and swallow it down as well as I can.

"Is anyone hurt? Are you hurt?" I swing back, wide eyes meeting his as I pet the wet hair from his face. He looks okay. Mostly okay.

elena gilbert ][ plot: closed to frank castle

[copingskills]

One might think that Elena would be afraid of the water after all that she'd been through in the last couple of years. Two incidents of near or complete drowning might have that effect, but she'd never attributed it much to the water. It had been more about the cars, the accidents, being trapped, helpless.

She liked swimming, even if she wasn't the best at it. She loved the beach, laying out in the sun.

When the song had first begun, she'd resisted, if only because it felt like the right thing to do. But she'd felt at peace when she'd finally given in, dipped her toes in the water's edge, floated on its surface. She'd spent a lot of time here, but she'd resisted the urge to take it too far.

Until now.

It filled her head until there wasn't room for anything else, this need to swim out as far as she could, to dive until she couldn't dive anymore. It needed her like nothing else had, and she needed it too. She wasn't thinking; the water was doing all of that for her.

She didn't even hesitate. She simply rose from her spot near the edge of the water and dove in, still dressed in her clothes and shoes. They weighed her down, but she was strong, and her strokes were sure as she headed toward the center of the lake.

[oorah]

Frank has a complicated history with the water himself. His kids loved it when he took them on the ferry, and after... he'd gone himself a few times just to remember. He can't remember the last time he went to the beach or swimming for the sport of it honestly, no matter how hard he racks his brain. But then there was Reims, the reprieve of rain there was unparalleled to say nothing of the river's healing effects from the infectious red dust. Something about this is similar, if only because on some level he's aware he's not fully in control. After having a psychopath in his head, it's not easy for him to work through, but just as it was with Kilgrave he doesn't have a choice.

It's not until he's hip deep with his spidey senses going haywire that he snaps out of it enough to register the woman in front of him. She's going too far out, he realizes, his heart beating in triplicate as he starts to come to and slowly back out of his haze. There's something sinister about the way she keeps going under, and after a minute he's diving after her, trying to get closer though she has one heck of a head start and his boots are weighing him down too, to say nothing of the heavy denim overalls he's wearing.

"Hey, lady! Stop right there," he calls out for her, hoping to slow her down enough so that he can catch up.

[copingskills]

She had somehow managed to shuck off her shoes as she made her way further from the shore. Her scrub pants, which had always been somewhat loose, were easy enough to let slip away. Her shirt was still heavy and wet, but as she stops for a moment to tread water, it was easy to pull it off over her head and let it sink to the bottom of the lake.

It's then that she heard a voice, and it pulled her from her trance, if only for a moment. Her head turned toward the noise so that she could catch sight of the man trying to swim toward her, and if his eyesight was good, he would realize that her own eyes were wide and afraid.

"I can't."

She yelled the words from that distance away even as the music grew even louder in her head, drowning out anything he might say afterward. It had her and it wouldn't give her up so easily.

She turned and kept swimming. There was a reason she was here, she was sure of it. After a few long strokes, she took a deep breath, and dove.

kamala khan | closed to jessica and owen

[morphogenia]

closed to Jessica;

It starts out innocently like all things related to Kamala. A song starts playing her head on repeat. It starts off as the background music playing gently in the back of her mind. The lyrics filter in as the days follow. Kamala still thinks nothing of it. She goes about her day humming along to the tune. She does most of her chores and runs errands. Generally she stays her normally happy self until something slips into the lyrics. It sounds like something is calling her. That's creepy, but she chalks it up to her overactive imagination until things get darker. It starts reminding her how cool and quiet things are below the water around the time the song mentions death. The voice insisting on this is only getting louder as time goes on.

She's understandably scared. This isn't her. It's never been her. That leaves something outside of her? Maybe? Kamala can't be sure. All she knows is she needs an adult. The pool she can go to with her problems is fairly small despite her worship of superheroes. She thinks of only Jessica and Frank when it comes down to it. Frank is out immediately. She doesn't want to scare him or worse bring back old memories. He seems better these days. She can't ruin that for him. That leaves Jessica who is surprisingly hard to track down when you're in a blind panic about having weird thoughts. She eventually does if only because Kamala has never been one to give up... and it's a small village.

"Jessica!" The shouting isn't new. The vulnerability in her voice is. She's rattled. "Can we talk? Please?"

closed to Owen;

Regardless of how their talk turns out, the voice wins. She stops doing whatever it is she was supposed to be doing and starts heading for the water. It feels like a dream. Kamala is ready to embrace it. She misses the quiet. Wouldn't it nice to be cool? She walks and walks until she finally hits the water. If the vacant expression on her face isn't enough of a tell, walking until the water fully clothed and wearing boots will. She'll keep going until the water hits her waist. All that's left to do is dive underneath the water and enjoy the silence.

[ooc; PM me if you would like a closed starter for the plot! Otherwise, Kamala has an open post here before the plot.]

[underachievement]

If she stayed home, at the furthest reaches of the least trodden road, she never would have noticed people acting odd. No people out there to notice. There's always fodder for people watching closer to the heart of the village, where Jess takes her free meal from the Inn to chew through in solitude. She watches people go by from a semi-sheltered nook off the main path, her back to a tree.

Just seems like a lot of people are feeling irritable. Every now and then, she'll hear someone hum, and either it carries on or they cut themselves short. There's a lot of staring going on too, which is fine, the place is boring as hell, but if she's not crazy, it's always in the same direction. In which Jess is squinting, contemplating the merits of checking it out, when Kamala calls her name.

"Whoa, hey," Jess says through her last bite of food. She pushes herself off the ground and swipes the dirt and twigs from her palms onto her jeans. Nothing appears to be chasing her but Jess keeps staring vigilantly the way she came until Kamala clears things up. "What's up? You okay?"

[morphogenia]

Kamala stops just short of her, bringing up her fists to her chest. Despite Jessica's reasonable questions she continues to panic. It's hard to shake how wrong the suggestions were. She feels cornered because it's coming from inside her. "No. Maybe? I don't know! Something really weird is going on!" It's then she forces herself to breathe. She can't just freak out. She came to Jessica for help because she's positive she is the right choice. Kamala has faith in her so behaving this way isn't all that appropriate. What good is a vote of confidence when the person casting it isn't acting like they believe you can help at all?

She clarifies more calmly. "Something is really wrong with me. I don't know what to do."

[underpinnings]

Owen skirts the edges of the lake, these days; there are other places to fish, and he can't shake the memory of the wendigo sitting on the shore, picking apart its prey. It isn't a problem others seem to have, especially of late--it's become a popular place, more and more people making the trek up from the south village. Makes a kind of sense, waiting for the rising bubble of late summer heat to pop on a cool breeze--but something's got him on edge.

Nim won't fucking go near it, and best he can remember, the cat started following him around after he bunked in one of these houses for a night.

When he sees Kamala at the edge, though, he pushes past the odd feeling in his teeth. She might be fishing today, might want some help or be willing to tag along on some other errand, learn a little more about the land beyond the villages. She walks in as he comes up to the edge, but the alarm starts when she goes past the top of her boots, and he can't see any kind of line or net in her hands.

"Hey," he calls; then her name, then louder. More than a few people already call him paranoid, so--fuck it, he starts splashing in after her, heedless of his own clothing.

Natasha Romanoff | OTA

[iwasrussian]

This isn't the kind of life Natasha leads and it's quietly beginning to take its toll. Even the daily routine she's adopted, no matter what order she does it in seems to have made the days blend into each other. One horrendously long day lived over and over like she's Bill Murray and this is Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. It's one of the few movies she's seen and actually liked. Or, did until getting there. Both places seem to be in the same circle of Hell as each other, as far as Nat's concerned.

When she left the house that morning, it was with the intention to follow that daily routine to some extent. But there wasn't anyone her level around to spar with and advertising the need for a partner wasn't exactly her thing, so, running seemed to be the only thing she could do. At least Eastwood didn't mind. He was getting old enough now to follow commands and he was at least triple the size now than when he turned up two months prior.

The run was good until Natasha stopped when she heard it; a familiar tune that pulled her into some kind of daze that felt.. wrong. When she finally came to she was almost chest deep in water with a scared little dog sitting on the edge whining for her to come back.

[womanofvalue]

Something strange is happening. Peggy's been working as usual, a song in her head, but no more than the usual one that she uses to keep occupied while she works. What's strange is the way everyone seems to be in a sort of daze, like they're not quite attuned with what's going on. She's in the midst of a food run to the orchard when she hears the sound of a dog nearby, whining. "What's wrong?" Peggy asks the dog bluntly, as if she expects a response.

There's no baby talk, hardly any sympathy, but when she turns to see Natasha in the water, Peggy's eyes widen with panic as she instantly shifts gears. "Natasha! Natasha, what are you doing?" she barks at her, already prying off her shoes to get in the water to go after her.

Kat | Open

[mediumhoodie]

There weren't any words to the song that Kat heard but it was a comforting tune, warm and hopeful. She hadn't thought that it was strange, even if she'd occasionally stop what she was doing and listen to the sweet song.

After listening she'd walk away and leave the lake behind her; until she couldn't do that anymore. The music twisted and swirled around her, sinking into her skin and thoughts as it enticed her forward. She wasn't paying attention to the path she took or the sights along the way. Her feet guided her forward as she walked in a trace towards the lake. It wasn't until her boots had sank into the water that she began to feel uneasy.

Another step forward and another.

Did she know how to swim?

It hardly matters and then, the water was curling around her waist, her foot slipped and she stumbled into the rippling currents. Her head cleared and she gasped as she forced herself to her feet, spitting up water a she stared out at the lake. Her hair was wet, matting to her cheeks as panic rose in her chest.

"W-what happened? How did I-"

[pharmakis]

Circe was familiar with Sirens enough to know that their songs should not be listened to. While she had never been tested before, she wasn't about to try and determine whether her new mortality could stand against them. As soon as others spoke about them, she plugged her ears with cloth and made her way to the lake to see to the others.

Kat was half way into the water before Circe was able to reach her. She grabbed at the woman's arm, drawing her back towards the shore. She couldn't exactly hear her, but she could guess what the question was. "It is the Sirens. I didn't know they were in this world, but their song calls to you. From now on, you need to plug your ears, otherwise you might be pulled completely into the water."

Ravi | OTA

[zomboligist]

He'd been at the hospital when he'd first heard the earworm in his head, like a song that he just couldn't shake out. Sure, everyone's had the Macarena in their head and he knows there's no one that hasn't dealt with a pesky Chicken Dance, but this one seems stranger. For a while, he's able to be strong and ignore it, setting up shop in the hospital.

Eventually, though, it starts to get worse. He has to bar up the door and even then, it's not like he can't just undo what he's done, which is when he realizes that he's in trouble. Oh, god, he's in trouble. When he's still fairly sane and able to, Ravi sends a quick text to Major and Liv to warn them that something is happening, but then, Ravi finds himself fretting so much that he decides that it wouldn't hurt to listen to the song for just a moment.

Right?

So, so very wrong.

He's practically ripping away the barred up logs on the door and heading in the direction that the song seems to be calling him, the yearning he feels romantic and platonic and desperate, all at once. Whatever it is, he needs more of it and he's intending to go in that direction without stopping, striding as fast as he can right towards the water. He'll find it, he knows he will, and besides, he's a zombie sometimes. Whatever trouble that he might have to face, it's all worth it, it's all worth it for this beautiful song in his head.

[living_proof]

It isn't hard to find Ravi — I'm shown the way. I have this thing where sometimes — Just sometimes, usually when I'm stressed out because I'm hungry and I'm all out of bunny brains — a faint, pale blue line just appears out in the world to point me like I was dropped into the real life version of Waze and am trying to get to the nearest Starbucks. I think it's to do with my color designation, and you would think I'd have confirmed this with my boyfriend in his similarly navy blue, butt-hugging pants, but I haven't. Give me a break, he's distracting.

So it naturally follows that on this incredibly stressful day wherein I have almost drowned myself to the dulcet sounds of Simon and Garfunkel, when I recover enough to start worrying about whether Ravi and Major are okay, my Google street view kicks on. And there Ravi is, still alive (pro) but wandering in a daze toward the water (con), looking like he just finished reading a Danielle Steel novel.

"Ravi!" I yell, kicking up sand as I sprint his way. "Ravi, stop!" He's to the edge of the water by the time I get there, positioning myself in front of him, both hands against his chest as the waves swirl in around my boots. "If you drown yourself, Ravi Chakrabarti, I am going to put your go-go boots in a wood chipper!"

Yeah, we don't have a wood chipper. Whatever.

[majorlyugh]

Major gets that weird tingle at the back of his skull right before the text comes in. He isn't sure if it's a sorta-zombie-side-effect or them being BFFs4Eva, but he's halfway out of the door of the cabin by the time the message is received. He's seen a number of other people strolling past the window looking out of it, but he hasn't thought much of it. Weird things happen in the village, and it's been quick to remind him of it on his second go-around.

"He needs to not be so cryptic," Major mumbles to himself, giving Ravi's message another read, but the vagueness of it and the ominous tone are enough to make Major break into a run in the direction that he's seen the others meandering towards. He sees the perfect plume of black hair go under as he reaches the shore of the lake. "RAVI!" He rushes into the water, cursing the resistance of liquids as he tries to speed his way to where he'd last seen the top of his friend's head. With a deep breath, he dives in and tries to him him, grabbing somewhat wildly before latching onto what he hopes is Ravi's collar, and pulling them both to the surface.

Major Lilywhite | OTA

[majorlyugh]

Hey, I just met you,
And this is crazy ..

It's not the manliest of tunes that starts to wriggle its way into his ear and then into the base of his skull, but it's an effective tune nonetheless. He doesn't even think much of it, despite the strange twitch in his toes and the impatient wriggle in his fingers. It feels like when he was eight years old and had accidentally had some caffeine. He laid in bed for hours and hours with a feeling like insects in his legs, his muscles twitching and aching and burning and yearning all at once somehow. His mind had been no better. It's like that, only it's ..

Different.

It isn't the TV static that he'd felt in his legs that fateful evening. It isn't that pork-rinds-crackling firing off in his brain like fireworks. It's .. softer. It's the smell of coffee and bacon cooking in the morning. It's the gentle urge of feet down the stairs towards the kitchen at the warmth and sustenance promised. It's the thrill of a lover's touch on the inside of the wrist, tiptoeing a path to the bedroom.

And for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of five minutes, Major mumbles to himself in song:

"So call me maybe .. Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad, I missed you so, so bad," completely ignoring the fact that it's impossible to miss someone before you know them. He's so focused that he doesn't feel the water at his ankles, then at his knees, then at his waist. He doesn't seem to notice the way the ground falls out from underneath his feet as he goes deeper and deeper still. He doesn't even seem to notice that his mouth is filling with water, until suddenly --

He does, and no matter how he tries, he can't seem to do a damn thing to save himself.

[living_proof]

"MAJOR!"

I am shrieking. I am standing on a beach, wet from the waist down, and I am shrieking loud enough to make myself hoarse. There is a glowing blue line laid out across the water in front of me, and at the end of it, there is nothing but a shock of sandy brown hair slipping beneath the surface.

I swore I wouldn't go near the water again. It doesn't matter.

Hands shaking, I shuck off my boots and wade sloppily in, pressing past waves that want to push me back to shore. "MAJOR!" I scream again, even though I know it's pointless, and the second it's deep enough, I duck under and swim because there is no time.

I surface, panting, treading water as my gaze skips over the lake. He was here, he was just here.

"MAJOR!"

John Druitt | OTA

[borneinblood]

Given that Druitt has something lurking at the back of his mind on a regular basis as things stand, he only dimly notices when the first wisps of something else start seeping in. And even when that wisp strengthens into a genuine song - soft and quiet; an old song from back when he'd been more himself, before he'd picked up the wayward passenger that sits inside his skin and is never entirely quiet - he thinks nothing of it. It's odd for him to be suddenly remembering a song from when he'd been younger, yes. But it's just a song, and not even he's immune to being a little nostalgic.

He puts it out of his mind, even as it starts to become more and more insistent; while he means to go somewhere else his feet have other plans in mind as they turn towards the water, the only things in Druitt's mind the echoing song, and under that the lingering rage that he always bears with him.

It isn't until the water hits his knees that he realizes where he's gone, and it suddenly occurs to him that he doesn't care. That water feels right, somehow. That he wants nothing more than to keep walking, even if it means the water might carry him away.

He walks on, step by step, quite entirely heedless of the way the water rises around him, drawn ever onwards and only dimly aware that maybe he should stop at some point.

aug 26, closed.

[underachievement]

When Kamala wasn't at Jess's house upon her return, she feared the worst. She ran to the lake, where some people were still being dragged out sputtering, but didn't find her there. She couldn't have escaped their notice if she followed the water's call. Someone would have fished her out. She asks around until she gets a yes, a girl matching that description was seen sopping wet by someone as they made their way to the lake. Then Jess goes home hoping Kamala isn't there, relieved to find she isn't. She drinks and watches the network for casualty reports, staying up until 6AM before falling asleep with her head on her iWatch.

She sleeps through the afternoon and into the early evening, more fitful as the hours go on. Eventually she pushes herself upright and awake, drinks an entire glass of water, drinks a small glass of moonshine and goes wandering into town. Frank will be able to console her through the alienation from her own instincts. The near-death part too. But he can't apologize for Jess failing to look after her properly. And won't, thank god. She drifts to their house scenically slow, liquor settling in her stomach, the initial harsh buzz gradually dulling. She knocks three times with the knuckle of one finger, willing them not to answer despite the lights she can see on inside.

[oorah]

He'd been unable to save Elena, but in that time apparently he'd missed a lot going on with Kamala. Who had thankfully sought out Jess, the only person he trusts in this place other than himself. They had both taken one look at each other and gone their separate ways in the house, agreeing not to talk about this until they absolutely had to. Everyone but Elena is safe, and after Frank's conversation with Kira he's convinced she'll be just fine too. Or as fine as any of them are, here.

Frank's hair is still wet from the shower after his vigorous afternoon walk with the dogs, and he goes to put the coffee percolator in when he hears the knock. Kira or Karen would just stroll right in, and no one else actually comes to his house. That coupled with the lackadaisical rapping tells him who it is before he can even make his way across the house. Out of habit, he ducks behind the door so he'll see her before she sees him before pushing it open silently. Knowing and seeing are two different things, and the foreign sight of Jessica Jones on his stoop has his heart racing and his eyes widening in super lame greeting.

"Jess," he acknowledges, sounding confused. She'd never once come to his door, well, unless you count the treehouse. He doesn't because it was neutral ground which is why she felt she could. Still, he steps aside to let her in, the two dogs he hasn't returned yet snoozing away in the foyer. Aretha cracks an eye at the intrusion while Aurora pops up onto her haunches and wags her tail, hoping for Jessica's attention as she issues a singular bark in greeting. Aretha closes both her eyes again and lets out a groan like her sister is embarrassing her. "Uh. I'm making coffee."