[open] i'm high, broke, searching for symbols

[substances]

Who: Klaus Hargreeves; OTA
What: just a catch-all for some threads that don't fit in the intro log and an open prompt (might add more later)
When: month of July
Where: various
Warnings: definitely drug use or thoughts of drug use; anything else tba in the subject lines



👻 aspiring horticulturist

It had taken Klaus approximately four days to completely run out of the weed he'd had in his pocket when he came from Hadriel. But since he's not really the type to run rescue missions and doesn't have the technical know-how to fix computers, he's mostly been wandering around the city trying to figure out what he actually can do. Trying to keep his mind occupied now that he doesn't have pot to turn to, trying to keep his mind off the painkillers in his bag back in his room.

When he makes his way to the upper levels, he lifts the bottom of his shirt to hold it over his mouth and nose, because the air up here is awful, and he pokes around a little bit, determined to check out what's going on and get the hell out of here. At least, until he finds the horticultural area. There's a computer there, the screen cracked and flickering, but it seems to be at least a little bit functional. Klaus doesn't know computers, but he's been using a phone since he arrived in Hadriel and that's like a month and a half of experience, so he heads over to the terminal, tapping at buttons under the screen until he figures out which one scrolls through the files of what kind of plants are stored here.

When he hears a sound behind him, he turns halfway to the side, glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh hey, do you know anything about computers?"

Comments

👻 for julie: and whole days turn into holes in my mind

[substances]

Part of him feels like he's going stir-crazy, there's too much going on in his head and not enough at the same time, and the ghosts here are so fucked up he can't ignore them as well. Especially not after getting used to the Hosts that he'd seen in Hadriel. Awful, but somehow a little less horrifying since they weren't really human. Most of the ghosts here are human, but they're shattered and glitchy and wrong. And somehow they still know his name.

When he wakes up from another nightmare to the sound of his own voice whimpering, sits up with a yelp and then slaps his hand over his face, goes still as he hears Ben or Diego shift in their beds, holding his breath, he knows he has to do something. It's dark and he's alone and he's fucking up his brothers' sleep and he doesn't think either of them would be happy to have him in their bed right now. So he slides out of his bunk and slips on his sandals, heads out the door and down the hallway.

Shirtless, in just a pair of pink knee-length sweatpants and his sandals, he knocks on Julie's door, then leans against the wall, eyes half-closed, running his hand back through his hair.

[killedwithlove]

Cole can help, some of the time, but he's not very technologically minded (at all) and given that he doesn't eat or sleep, he tends to wander a lot.

He's in the area when he realises Klaus is about and he drifts over, humming at the question. "Yes. They run on electricity, which is like lightning. And they go wrong a lot!"

Cole is clearly very proud for knowing something about computers.

🐙 | how to human

[benhargreeves]

[ By Ben's count, it's been just over 20 hours since he had arrived in this place, alive and with no idea how any of it was possible. A lot has happened in that time. He'd reunited with Klaus, gotten Klaus medical attention, reunited with Diego, found all of them a place to live, gotten everyone settled, and spent the rest of the day gathering information, learning as much as he can. He never drifted too far from either of his brothers, concerned in particular about Klaus, injured as he is.

He's gotten even more of the essential research done in the last few hours after Diego and Klaus had both gone to sleep. It's slow going, figuring out how to work the communication and information device he'd been given, but Ben is teaching himself through trial and error. Except more and more he is feeling... bad.

It's been a long time, since Ben Hargreeves had a body. He's gotten into the habit of not needing anything at all, and not feeling anything at all. All the input that he ought to easily be able to parse and identify - what is hunger, what is thirst, what is sleepiness, what is a headache, what is needing to pee, what is feeling sore and needing to readjust his posture - it's all tangled up and indecipherable to his brain right now. So he does what he's used to doing. In other words, none of it. All he's aware of is an increasing feeling of wretchedness. That this is a bad situation they're in, everything is terrible, that they will only get worse, and things will go on like this forever and ever.

He looks up from the frustrating device when he hears Klaus entering the room, concerned that he is awake. Had he slept poorly? Is he in pain? ]

Hey, Klaus.

[ Ben's voice comes out a little scratchy, strained. He is, to Klaus's view, sitting in the exact same place he had been six hours before, without any sign of having gone to bed, or moved whatsoever. ]

{All the things time and death stole from us » @ Ben Hargreeves

[deadlycurves]

[Diego can adapt with pretty much anything thrown his way, he's very malleable in certain ways. But in other ways, he's really, really bad at dealing with change. He hadn't realized how quickly he'd grown so used to the sounds of anywhere between two or five of his other siblings milling about in the house at all hours of the day and night until he found himself in this second, new world suddenly dwindled down to only two of his brothers. But at least they were here together, and at least they had all agreed they needed to stay together, so even if they separated and did their own things during the day in this place, at the end of it, eventually, he could know he didn't need to worry about where either Ben or Klaus would end up. But. He was missing the rest of his siblings. He'd had all of them, except Vanya who had disappeared recently, in Nonah and occasionally spread across the other Porter cities, but they were never that far away. He finds it hard to sleep, without those growing-familiar noises of the others quietly going on in the background of his attempt at it. Which is why, well after midnight, Diego finds himself slipping out of bed and tapping uselessly at the computer terminal. Seems pretty busted, near as he can tell, but what does he know about shit like this? He only knows how to use the stupid communicator device because he'd had a similar one in the other world. He sinks down in the chair at the desk on the far side of the room, a deep sense of...something hard to name, twisted and tangled up with a dull melancholy, a razor-sharp anger, and an abrupt drop-off into almost resignation, both sinks down into the marrow of his bones, and echoes into the immediate vicinity around him. He scrubs a hand roughly over his face and sighs. He hates this place just as much as the first, and he wants to go home, to the true, real other side of Five's jump to know what happens to them, and the rest of their world. Ben may be the only reason he might ever consider wanting to stay here at all.]

text; july 22nd, start of the redout

[braveoff]

[ Drake has been trying to keep tabs on the people he knows that are stuck here with him, but he feels like he's losing his grip a little. He's barely sleeping, which may not have been much of a problem for him the past couple of years but as a human? It sucks a lot. He's tired and lonely and scared and trying not to let on about any of that, because aren't they all? The act is just getting a tiny bit harder with each passing day, and Anchor's power failing and whatever the hell just happened outside isn't helping one bit.

Right now he's just trying to stick to his routine despite everything, and at the top of his priority list is Klaus. He considers just swinging by the room his friend shares with his siblings, but really, he could be anywhere, and Drake's feeling a little too wrung out to keep up appearances with strangers. Text first. ]

Hey, how are you holding up?