Entry tags:
- we the lost: !ic,
- we the lost: eliza owens,
- we the lost: emily kaldwin,
- we the lost: kd6-3.7,
- we the lost: meulin leijon,
- we the lost: montague "monty" navarro,
- we the lost: phillip gray,
- we the lost: renart,
- we the lost: royce melborn,
- we the lost: the psiionic,
- we the lost: toriel,
- we the lost: zangetsu
IC contact for
wethelost

Solomons & Melborn
1108 Sweet Cream Street
[Feel free to use this space for letter/package deliveries as well as visits/knocks on the front door!]
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I am bad luck. [ Like always. ] I mean with Xanthous. This was what he must've been talking about.
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You're not bad luck.
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[He balances the rest of the buttered bread on Royce's stomach, then rolls over and presses against his side.]
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[Alfie threads his fingers through Royce's hair. He still hasn't touched the bread himself.]
Less because you do dangerous things.
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Why do you worry, then?
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I always worry about you thinking badly of yourself when you don't deserve it, mate.
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I don't think badly of myself. [ Royce says, with a sigh. He shifts away from the fingers, sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. ]
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[But he pulls his hand back, just watching Royce.]
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Don't you ever get tired of arguing with me about this?
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[Can you be angry with this face, Royce.]
But I'm not gonna stop, all the same.
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I get tired of arguing with me about this.
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[He knows. He stays where he is, staring at Royce's back.]
cw: gore
If Alfie doesn't say anything else for a few more minutes, Royce actually gets up and heads to the bathroom. He doesn't throw up, but he does come close, trembling over the sink. ]
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Royce.
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[He will come in there in an instant if he's wanted.]
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Yeah. Come here. Please. [ Something twists in him - he hates asking for help, even now, even after everything, but he can't do this on his own. The cold in him wraps icy around his heart and he gags a bit, swallowing hard. There was a time, in Norfinbury, that he saw his own insides, but it was methodical. Tifa. But it was different.
This was sudden. Messy. He watched it twice. And Royce Melborn is not exactly a person who shies away at guts and gore, but it's different when it's your own. ]
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Talk to me about something stupid. [ Royce says, muffled against Alfie's chest. ] I can't - I keep seeing my own insides and I --
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A man is sitting on his front porch watching the day go by, when a farmer with his cart drives past. "Good morning!" calls the man to the farmer. "What have you got in that wagon of yours?"
"Manure," says the farmer.
"And what are you gonna do with all that manure?" says the man.
"I'm gonna go back to my farm and spread it over the fruit," says the farmer.
The man shakes his head. "Mate, I need to have you over to mine for lunch someday. We put sour cream on our fruit. Tastes much better."
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It makes it easier to come down from the panic attack he was working himself up into. Keep going, buddy. ]
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There was once a little village that needed a new synagogue built.
[He rubs soothing circles into Royce's back.]
And so all the strongest men got together and went off into the mountains to gather stone for its foundation. At the top, they heaved the biggest boulders that they could carry onto their shoulders and started walking back down. When, after many hours, they finally reached the village at the bottom, one of their grandmothers stuck her head out her window and called to her grandson: "Are you stupid, boy? Why didn't you just roll those boulders down the mountain?" The men stopped walking and looked at each other, and then, still carrying the boulders, they turned right around. They climbed that big fuck-off mountain again, and when they reached the top, they rolled the stones down. "She was right," one man said to another. "That was a much better idea."
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