[PRP] whack-a-mole (Oliver & Preacher)

[Melancholies]

Oliver had heard of this place.

Honestly, he had heard of it a number of times since his unwarranted voyage into the everlasting land of being a moonwalker. Other Ashdown was a place he'd have to become well acquainted with, well accustomed too and well aware of. There were dangers, there were boons. The problem though...

Well, he was absolutely sure he wasn't dreaming. He was here, and it was somewhat upsetting because he was just trying to get to the kitchen so he could wash his hands. Why would it be that easy? Why would anything so mundane be that simple? Nope—he opened the door from his bedroom and walked right out into ******** hell land.

Except it sort of wasn't that bad and he wasn't sure what he had been expecting. He was a little peeved at being stuck in his pajamas since he was ready for a rare early night, but he supposed that wouldn't be happening.

"Well ******** me I guess right?" He huffed angrily up at the sky. The sky offered him no answers in response, and without any real purpose he started to wander up and down the street in hopes that he'd just, who knows, wander out.

The Semblance of Unity

so u mink this is a good idea

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Well, not wi' that attitude, boy." Preacher fell in step beside Ollie. It was kind of rare for her to see people wandering here - strange, considering just how many people where magical bullshit now. "Try askin' nicely." She grinned at him, swinging her arms.

"'Sup."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver jumped.

"Jesus Christ you scared the s**t out of me." He wheezed dramatically as he brought a hand to his chest, except he was being very serious with his reaction and was literally that much of a drama queen. Regardless, he settled down with a sigh, hair sufficiently ruffled.

"Do people typically roam around this place like it's nothing?" He blinked down at her (so tiny), "I mean, this is... this is Other Ashdown right? I've heard about it..." His expression finished the rest of his sentence; 'because I've never been here'.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"Wow, didn't peg ya for a nervous type." Preacher shrugged, then her smile slid into a smirk. "I don't bite unless ya want me to." She winked.

"N' yeah, this is rainy bullshit land, though it ain't rain often, anymore. People wander 'cause ******** am I gonna do? It's kinda boring, even if I can do neat s**t here."

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"I'm not nervous! You just caught me off guard, Christ." And he had regained a lot of his composure, if you counted arms crossed defensively to be composed. "And I'd prefer if you kept your mouth to yourself, thank you." He shot her a glare, but it slowly steadied into something more neutral.

"Anyway, I don't know? You could always leave?" He kicked at something on the floor, "I guess. Maybe. I don't know the way out so maybe it's not that easy." He looked to Preacher, "What's the point though? If you can do neat s**t but then you don't bother with it when you have the chance." Seemed like a big waste to him.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"You are so nervous," she said, smirking. "M'mouth goes were it pleases, frizzy." Preacher looked down to see what the hell Ollie was kicking at, probably a s**t lot of nothing.

After a moment, she held out her hand. "C'mon, we gotta walk through a ******** ton a doors n' hope one can swoosh us back. It takes a bit, y'know. N' just 'cause I can don't mean I'll show ******** john from off the street. I don't even know ya name."  

[Melancholies]

Oliver looked down disdainfully at the hand held out to him, and then up to Preacher, and then down to the hand again. "My name's Oliver..." He mumbled petulantly like a sulking child. He reached out towards the hand with an obvious hesitation, but finally he settled it in hers.

Of course, nothing could have prepared him for the pack touch again, let alone because he wasn't expecting it, but here they were. Warmth and family and friend slapped him upside the head immediately, and it made his eyes huge and his face wibble a little. With Eve he had been so surprised that it had little immediate bearing on him, and wit Jamie he had an immensely difficult time letting go (the feeling the second time around was easier to parse, and much more welcomed in a split second moment).

This was, well, not so different. It broke him. His mouth was half opened with a startled question as he started at Preacher with some weird cross between "adoring small child meets santa" and "a really sad puppy that wants your pizza crust".

oliver its oliver

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"I'm Preacher." She grinned and took his hand. The familiar feelings of 'home', of belong rushed through her. Pack touch. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated in horror. No, no, no, no she didn't want this! She tried to yank her hand away, her fingers not quite unclenching properly. She dragged Oliver's arm up. Then she yanked again, hand coming free. With her other hand, she drew back and punched him in the face.

"D-don't touch me!" Her voice came out high and frightened and she hated it. Preacher looked at Oliver as thought he were an alien.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Ollie's eyes were still wide as Preacher panicked, staring down at her, mesmerized by the weird mental phenomena of this weird moonwalker s**t. He always wound up in the same train of thought; it was weird—intrusive of course—but he'd never been able to put family into words like the touch felt in his hand. It was warm and wholesome and made him feel okay—

Next thing he knew he was blinking rapidly from the ground, vision blurred and spinning in circles. Preacher's form was standing there in three different places at once, her voice hitting his ears like it was traveling through water. He vaguely registered something warm running down his lip, fingers twitching as his body tried to tell him get up.

Did she hit him? That thought seemed so weird and foreign; she wouldn't have hit him, right? Why would she have hit him? Did he do something wrong?

He pushed his torso up, still sitting, watching the tiny drops of red land on the pavement. "Y-You hit me..." He looked up at her with his sight still muddled, except now all the wonder in his eyes was replaced with fear and confusion. "W-What the ********— why—"

He brought his hand to his face and his now bloody nose, too startled and shock to do much else.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

Later on, she would feel bad about this. Late on, she might apologize. But for now, she stared at Oliver, eyes still wide, not offering a hand up. "You didn't tell me you were a ******** shifter," she hissed loudly, as if that was all the explanation needed.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

He gawked. "Should I start including that in my introductions? Hello there, I'm Oliver! I transform into animals!" His voice got high pitched and indignant, except the way it wavered showed how terrified he was regardless, how utterly flabbergasted he was. "I-I didn't know you were one! ******** it I only started going through this s**t a few weeks ago, I don't even know what I am." He hissed, "I never asked for this! A-And you just—!"

He was cradling his nose now, unsure if it was broken, but knowing it hurt like a son of a b***h.

"H-How is this my fault." He was almost crumpling in on himself, "I-I didn't know." Hell, he wasn't even bothering to lift himself off of the floor.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

"You.. you.." She crouched down, a far enough distance away that he couldn't reach her. Swiping her knuckles against her jeans, she simply stared. "Doesn't... it... it feels awful. It makes me ********' sick. D'you think I goddamn asked for it either? I don't want this bullshit ta force it's way into m'head, to make me think s**t that ain't my own thoughts. Doesn't it make ya skin crawl, too?" Nobody seemed to understand, everything thought it was so ******** wonderful that a stranger could touch her and she was forced to think of them as family. Family wasn't something good, it was a trap.

If she could cut off her stupid ears and be done with it, she would. Forced family was by far worse than no family at all. And hadn't that been what she'd come to Ashdown to outrun? Preacher'd thought she left it all behind her. Her face twisted and she looked on the verge of tears.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Now he just looked taken aback. "A-Awful...?" He blinked quickly like he was also on the verge of tears. "It..."

Sure, Oliver hated the notion of family, but he loved it too. Family was his dickhead dad at all hours of the night, ranting and raving and throwing s**t at the walls. Family was also his brother, someone who understood him on such a profound level that he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. As far as the pack touch went, it brought forward an entirely new sensation of belonging, and that was something Oliver never really had. He grew up an outcast with Shiloh, didn't stick to any one group of friends too much. He was a loner. This gave him something to feel good about.

He exhaled shakily, "I-I... I like it..." He said this quietly, like he was admitting to some sort of crime and Preacher was going to be the one to cut out his tongue. "I still have my own thoughts, it doesn't—it doesn't change me—" He was having a hard time putting his thoughts into words, "It makes me feel like I belong somewhere..."

He was scooting away from Preacher even though she had been a considerable distance away. Any other time he would have struck back, but right now he just felt hurt and thrashed and disposed of.

The Semblance of Unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

His hurt expression was awful and it tugged at her heartstrings. Viciously, she shook the feeling off, certain that it was the residual holdings of the awful pack touch. "It's b-bullshit magic forcing you to feel like we're family. I don't ********' know you from Adam! You don't know me, either." She rubbed a hand across her face than stared at that hand, fingers trembling slightly. "You could be ******** but this, t-this thing makes me think things I wouldn't normally. It d-doesn't bother you that you didn't earn this f-feelin? Nobody did! I don't want this goddamn feeling; I don't need it!" Preacher watched him scoot away from her and that was fine, too, she thought bitterly. That kind of look... she was used to being looked at like that, like she was the worst thing in existence. Like Preacher wasn't even worth the energy expended penalizing her for everything she ******** up.

She remembered late night footsteps pausing outside her door and how she tensed up, trying to remember what she'd done wrong. Family was unexpected knocks into the wall and a group of boys who decided she didn't fit. Family was her newest set of 'parents' telling she wasn't worth it. She was never worth it. So she didn't need it. And she especially didn't need a kind of forced comradery from some kind of built-in magical survival instinct. Preacher didn't need it, couldn't have it. "Ya can like it all ya want, ya can pretend it's belonging. But I never, never ********' needed this. If I could cut off my goddamn hand and never feel this again, I would." Her whole body tensed, wanting to fight - but Preacher couldn't fight a feeling. She couldn't knock down something inside of herself and give it a bloody nose. Instead, she slammed her fist into the pavement, hard, feeling the jammed fingers, the pain radiating up her arm.

melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"It's not like it's something you need." Had she been wronged by someone who was like him—a moonwalker? It might be sort of terrible he decided, to have to experience something so trusting with someone you might absolutely despise, but he... he didn't have a problem with it. He liked the camaraderie. He didn't want to convince this girl otherwise—feelings were feelings were feelings, and these weren't his—but watching the way she struggled, how hurt she seemed, everything—

"S-Stop that!" For a second he didn't see Preacher, he saw Shiloh, so ******** frustrated with life and everything that his fist was slamming into the wall. A hole in the surface, his knuckles ******** and bleeding, tears; "Stop! Stop oh my god." For all the backing up he had been doing, he was nudging forward again, the blood running over his lip and staining his front teeth read. He reached out and then slapped his hand away for fear of being hit again.

"I'm... I'm sorry." He said without knowing what else to say, because it felt like he had brought this on. He didn't want her to hurt like this, even if she was some stranger. "It's weird—sometimes it's ******** intrusive as hell—I didn't like it at first either, it..." He wheezed a little as he ignored the familiar feeling of blood down the back of his throat, "Please don't hurt yourself..." His hands wavered awkwardly, but he didn't touch her.

The Semblance of Unity