I'm in the autumn of my years

[panspermia]

Who: Greg Universe and any Rescuers
What: who's this asshole
When: June 18
Where: The Rescuers' ship
Warnings: trauma and PTSD

If Greg has a reaction to entering a massive alien guitar spaceship, he keeps it to himself. Between the drama of the ritual, the return of his maimed soul, and his haphazard rescue, he simply has too much to process first before he can take in the rest of the rescuer operation. As a result, first thing he does is find a small, empty room--a bathroom--and ask to be left alone for a while.

An hour or so later, a very different man emerges again.

It hadn't been his first intention in locking himself in that room, but the longer he'd been in there, the more necessary it had felt. Greg hasn't felt like himself in a very long time. The worst of it was the result of Blanche's meddling with his soul, yes, but it extended before that point as well. The face of his youth, the one Blanche used and tried to make into a different person altogether... Greg couldn't keep looking at that face anymore. It hurt too much, made him too sick. Adding a few years on to his appearance and a beard isn't going to fix it, either; he's not the same person he used to be, either. (After all, he did keep the hair.) But this is better, closer than before. Whoever he is now, this is about as close as he's willing to get.

Greg Universe emerges into the ship, avoiding eye contact, and finally begins to take things in.

Comments

[panspermia]

"Exactly." He laughs as well. "Just watching stuff happen is pretty incredible." Taking the initiative can be so overrated.

Greg looks down at his hands. "You figured it out before me. Thanks for pushing me in the right direction." But he sighs, shakes his head. "He's usually so bright and optimistic. He's a real force of positive energy."

Usually the thought would make him smile, cheer him, give him the strength to keep going. But he hasn't seen his son showing any of that joy or exuberance that always seemed to define him. "Luce, I... I don't know how much is what Pride put in him, and how much is... what they've done to him."

[giglio_madonna]

“So we’ll get him back, we’ll find out, and then we’ll help him heal.” Her fingers wrap around what they can of his arm, full of warmth as she squeezes. “At least half the battle is because he’s trapped in that place. He doesn’t have what I had, a view of something better. When you’re in a place like that, it’s what keeps you down. You can’t imagine getting out, and you feel so hopeless…” Greg should know. Luce trails off, thinking.

“But I think we can help him. He’ll have you, after all, and so many other friends here. Besides…” She presses a finger to her cheek. “I think I could help him too, with my flames. They, ah…” A sheepish laugh. “They’re actually nice ones, if you’ll believe me.”

[panspermia]

Greg leans slightly into her hand, taking comfort in it. She's right, of course. He can barely see it himself, only just out of the label's grasp, but already this vantage point makes so many more options and possibilities clear. Once Steven is free... they'll figure out what needs to happen from there.

"Your flames, huh?" He sends her a sidelong look, wry and bemused. It sure didn't feel too helpful on his magic crystal, but he'll give her the benefit of the doubt. "The squirrel thing was you, right?"

[giglio_madonna]

At least Luce looks a little sheepish. “It doesn’t usually have that kind of effect… I had no idea it would do that to you, dear, I’m sorry.” She was hoping just to steal it away while she had the chance… Well, it all worked out in the end. “But yes, the squirrel was me. I’m still getting a handle on it.

“It works much better when I keep it close to my body. Actually…. I’ve already used it that way with Steven once before.”