TLV: IC Inbox

[lestercraft]

"This is Arthur Lester. I'm not available right now, but do leave a message and I'll find the time. A-a voice message, please."

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[OOC: Please note Arthur is blind, so audio format is strongly ICly preferred, but by God don't let that stop you]

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[greatoldjohn]

The presence crashes into him, edges sharp and emotions hot, loud, right along with the voice.

[-fucking said! Fuck!]

[lestercraft]

And Arthur yanks his hand back from Yellow before the crown can make contact, with a sudden jolt of pure panic. "Jesus!"

--wait that came from inside his head, not- he didn't feel anything, how-- "John?"

[howtheyshine]

"Brother?" Edwin unfurls all at once from the crown, yanking back from Arthur at the same time as the man pulls back from him. "What-- Where did you come from?"

[greatoldjohn]

The eyes are focusing on Yellow and the left arm is lifting to pat Arthur's side as if incredulous as a howl snarls through Arthur's mind along with a maelstrom of hurt and anger and frustration.

[Fuck! that fucking asshole fucking smashed me, motherfucker!]

[lestercraft]

He can feel the manic patting up his side, his own hand moving to try and grab John's wrist to try and settle him, with the sudden blistering intensity of his emotions--

But then he hears smashed, and his confusion turns to a furious chill. "Smashed-" the echo is a breath, before he surges to his feet. "John, who?!"

[howtheyshine]

Yellow, for his part, is very very still. Edwin is a name for another being at a different kind of moment.

He says nothing, stays frozen in the air, except for the way tendril after tendril of darkness rises away from his robes and joins the still forest of limbs around him.

Let's just say at this particular moment it's a very good thing for his general sanity that Arthur is blind.

[greatoldjohn]

The word is a snarl.

[Collins.]

The left hand raises, gentle, gives a little wave, and then reaches into Arthur's pocket, where his communicator is, where it ends up when this happens. He pulls it out and spends a few seconds to type out.

It's all right, Edwin. I'm all right.
But my physical form, my mask, was smashed.

Arthur will feel the anger start to fade, get pushed down, turn into something trembling and buzzing.

[Tell Edwin I'm all right. He's upset.]

[howtheyshine]

"I'm not upset," he says, his tone eerily neutral in a way that suggests upset doesn't begin to cover it.

[lestercraft]

That fucking bastard. After everything Arthur's done to make sure that piece of shit can't touch them, that he managed to grab John and scare him, hurt him--

His face turns no less thunderous with the sudden bile, that drips into the embers of his temper and turns into an inferno that feels like he'll breathe smoke if he risks exhaling.

But Edwin's quiet voice is-- it's wrong, he knows it, something striking his attention as unusual in his phrasing but he's too fucking furious to notice properly.

He takes a breath, hot and heavy through his nose, and it doesn't quell the flames but it does give him room to breathe. "I'm-" he swallows, his throat thick with it. "I'm sorry, Edwin, but we'll- we have to sort this out, for now. I- w-we can try this again later- maybe next week, when John's back to himself again."

He's almost proud of himself that he manages to keep it calm, not bite at Edwin when all he wants to do is snap.

[greatoldjohn]

John is silent for a moment, his own emotion taking backseat to Arthur, to Edwin. The fire is banked further and some of the shaking and buzzing and-

The left hand puts the communicator down, unnecessary, and rubs at Arthur's eye. It's... damp. They don't need that right now. Neither of them need that right now.

[I'm okay, both of you. I'm... I was startled. I wasn't expecting that.

I probably should have.

I'm not hurt. I'm- I'm here, with both of you. And my mask will repair itself.]

Another pause before-

[...sorry for interrupting, uh, whatever was going on.]

[howtheyshine]

"It's fine, brother." Yellow's abyssal calm seems to continue. He certainly can't tell what's there, darkening the air around him, making this insignificant expression of reality, the barge, feel small and far away.

Collins. Collins, was it?

Collins needs to learn what he's been disrespecting.

[lestercraft]

"Right. Thank you."

He turns to pick up his cane, where it clattered to the ground at some point, but when he straightens, he takes another breath. If he's going to do this, he had to do it right.

"It's alright, John, it's- we'll do it another day. I'll- we have to make a few calls." His head tilts back towards Edwin, towards the sucking feeling of tension like gravity in the air. "Edwin- please. John and I can handle this. I promise."

[greatoldjohn]

[I'll see you soon, yes? Edwin?]

Yeah, he's not buying the 'okay', whatsoever. And he can feel the rage inside of Arthur, currently shivering underneath it's cover.

[...my mask is in a least a dozen pieces, I would guess. It's not going to be as neat as last time.]

[howtheyshine]

A dozen pieces.

He'll make it thirteen, then, or more.

Something sharp, somewhere quiet, and a flame to stop stop the bleeding perhaps.

"Yes, brother," he says, and he doesn't move to follow.