hugtopia_logs | it's been the ruin of many a poor boy [open.]

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it's been the ruin of many a poor boy [open.]

♥ Who: Clifford Norman, OTA!
♥ Where: wherever tbh...
♥ When: August 1 and general early August.
♥ What: Cliff arrives to do typical intro log stuff and be frustrated.
♥ Rating: uhh PG-13 for language? and probably underage smoking at some point.

[ a. the wrong world. ]

[He’d had the plan to move out solidly in mind until recently, but…somehow this wasn’t quite what he’d pictured. After being led to housing by the welcome wagon, Cliff had waited out the helpful robot before slinking away from the open street to somewhere he can quietly freak the fuck out in peace. Even in the alternate reality he suddenly had a second life’s worth of memories of, he’d only heard stories about some corrupted-but-harmless AI, nothing like a whole society….not that that’s his biggest issue right now. He doesn’t know nearly enough about science or magic to figure out why the hell he remembered two versions of his life or why he was a wolfboy from the middle of nowhere with shitty father figures in both of them. That just doesn’t seem fair?

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, shakes his head like it will disperse those thoughts, and sets off again. Maybe if he got the lay of the land, he'd have an easier time getting a handle on things. At least he can feel being an Animal Person, and know that if he wanted to right now, he could be a wolf before his next step hit, and that’s knowing more than nothing! Along that thought, he was wearing Oscar’s hoodie and he had that bag of gummies he'd just started. Undeniably real. But the hoodie had existed in that other world, too, even though he'd never gotten tangled with “just some guy” that was a magnet for trouble. And…]

Huh. Well, that was the most unbelievable part of all that.

[In his pocket, the push of his finger against a figurine’s ear assures him that it is also pretty damn real. Didn’t hate that, no matter how confusing it is. The circumstances surrounding this place and that other one, though...]

Christ. You save a guy’s life a couple times and they want to upgrade you to saving two worlds?

[Because he didn't have enough of a headache.]

[ b. the wrong foot. ]

[Contemplating his newly realized existential crisis, he doesn't have the mental fortitude to figure out who’s in charge and kick their ass. Instead, the redhead resigns himself to pretend-scrolling through his not-an-earth-phone while his eyes -- more animal than human, if someone were to inspect them -- and scowl do the job of telegraphing his mood for him even from where he's hiding under his hood.

It could be that simple, just his glare accidentally finding someone who didn't deserve it and a miscommunication running wild from there, or it could be that while he's pretending to be distracted by his phone, he's actually distracted with his thoughts enough that he comes too close to someone passing the other way and bumps into them. He jolts back with tight fists and an arm lifted like a shield between himself and the stranger. As ready to fight as he might seem and sound, it's possible to notice that he's on guard rather than being aggressive.]

Hey, watch it -- !

[ c. the wrong attitude. ]

This sucks.

[Cliff plops onto the bench with a truly impressive sigh. That feeling before he’d woken up… Even with as much as he loves his mom and brother, the fact that he still had to hold a part of himself back means that it had been so completely, overwhelmingly alien. Comforting and safe in the moment, but now?]

Fucking tired of people messing with my head…

[This really, really sucks.

Miserably, he notes that he should be rationing the few supplies that had come with him, but he deserves the sugar, dammit! Cliff drags the bag of gummi bears out and starts to eat them with the enthusiasm of a man on death row. He starts each one by biting its head off.]

[ d. the wrong...card?! ]

[idk man it’s the wildcard option, hit me up if you want to work something out!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He lifts his gaze off the ground, staring for a long moment at Cliff. He's been tired a long time but it's moments like this where he really feels it. There's the old pain, there's trepidation, there are memories.]

So you're saying... you remember another world aside from your own? Do I have that right?

[He scrubs at his face. He mutters a curse under his breath.]

...I believe you. I don't know that it's real but I believe that you could've seen it. Try and watch yourself when remembering. If you start getting nosebleeds, you've got a problem on your hands.

[He remembers trying to clean the blood off Dodger. He'd assumed those visions they shared were definitely not real. He doesn't like thinking otherwise. Another stupid universe in which he's probably found miserable and murdered at some point.]

Dios, I need a cigarette... [Catnip and candy sticks are just not going to cut it with this. His breath shudders.] So... your Coco... is she on your world as well or just this... magic world? Do you remember a lot of it? Of her.

[He makes a small noise of affirmation, though it's almost more like an annoyed grunt with how he suddenly feels like he's on the defense. There had definitely been times Héctor made him uneasy, but it was always with an easy smile and a soft, reassuring follow-up. When he'd been doubted, it was because he was being teased about his stupid, embarrassing crush on this guy's daughter.

Now he's basically being told he's crazy? That he could break his brain if he keeps remembering her?

(What makes him even more frustrated, what makes his throat feel annoyingly tight for a second and makes him want to kick over a trash can, is how he probably would have given up on it himself, if not for the wolf.

I thought, if you liked it, it would remind you of this place too.

He'd told her he hadn't needed a reminder. God, his girlfriend is so much smarter than he is. Even if that helps temper him a bit, Cliff thinks he'll keep that -- and the cigarette he could be offering -- to himself, for now. Out of teenage spite.]

I've never left Podunk, so I don't know. She probably wouldn't have a reason to leave Santa Cecilia, either. [Leaving him to be the girlfriendless loser god intended him to be when he was cursed with this stupid hair. Cliff rolls his eyes.] Do you even care if I do? 'My' Coco is different, if she's even real, right?

[His hand lowers down. His eyes fix on Cliff and he feels his own exhaustion press down. He's not unaware he's made the boy angry. He can't blame him.]

Muchacho... I haven't seen my daughter since she was four years old. I'm never going to see her. Ever again. All that's left for me of her is dreams.

[And dreams only go so far. He's only got so many memories.]

These alternate worlds, whether they're real or not, they're always informed by something real. You knew I was dead. A skeleton. You knew my name. And whatever you felt, her being your best friend, that's still real. It's not going to go away.

[He smiles faintly, joylessly.]

You're not the only one who's seen other possibilities. Mine just weren't as extensive... or very kind to me in the long run. [He shrugs.] But it's up to you.

...

[Well. Shit. There goes his resolve. While the sulking doesn't magically disappear, the tension in his shoulders gives out some and he scuffs a shoe against the ground.]

You got a lighter?

[He reaches to the "belt" (a bit of old rope) at his hips, where a small bag sits. He pulls the draw string and fishes inside. He's lost all the things he did have, which wasn't much, even before he came to this place. Nevertheless, in his desperation for cigarettes, he's managed to uncover its matching half while here.

He holds the lighter out.]

Want to find a seat someplace? Or are you better standing?

Edited 2021-08-02 00:57 (UTC)

Whatever.

[There's a case to be made for either one, so he's deciding to not care. He doesn't make the choice and he doesn't take the lighter, either. Instead, he finally lets go of the alebrije so he can instead take out his pack of cigarettes and shake it just enough that a few of the sticks move out. One for him, then the rest angled Héctor's way for him to take one.]

You don't smoke there, but at least you never gave me shit about it, either.

[Standing it is. Fine by him.

He reaches out to take one of the offered cigarettes and he mentally notes that he owes this kid. He slips it between his lips takes a moment snapping the lighter until it's got good flame, lights his own, takes a breath, and then, again, holds the lighter out for Cliff, the flame going this time. He wears a wry smile.]

I never smoked at home. Or in the land of the dead, at that. I had the pleasure [he says, with all dry sarcasm] of experiencing another afterlife as well along the way. It was smoking or insanity. I chose a little bit of both.

Edited 2021-08-02 01:32 (UTC)

[Cigarette lit and between his lips, his only reply at first is a noncommittal grunt. It's after he breathes the smoke out that he continues.]

Seriously.

[Like, it was no secret he was different, and not for the best. Ernesto's fate in that other reality hadn't been mercy, necessarily, but it was letting go and moving on without him. Smashing him into pieces might be relatable, but it's not the same. Goes right along with how the man looks like shit. ...He's not sure how deeply he wants to get into that, yet. It was hard enough asking Oscar about his mom, even with all the emotional baggage he'd helped lift off Clifford's shoulders. This is even more like catching a glimpse of something he wasn't meant to see.]

Anyway, to answer your stupid question: yeah, I remember her fine. Like I'm going to forget? [He should know that's impossible, even if he's from the dumbteenth century instead of the real one.] I probably can't answer everything you'd want to know about her, though.

[He snorts and smirks. Cliff's taking it in stride. Good.]

I don't know how clear that reality is to you. Some people just get fuzzy glimpses. [He shrugs.]

But, I don't imagine you can disappoint me. [Anything at all is more than what he has. His voice softens.]

I want to know... what she's like. What she likes. If she's happy. That one especially.

[Having seen Some Shit and recognizing that it probably doesn't come close, yeah. He's good over here, thanks. At least for now.]

It's two lives stuck in my head, man.

[Really he's lucky that he can pick out which life was which, especially through his headache. Cigarette is slowly helping him on that front, though...and the clarity means that Héctor's questions don't surprise him in the least. It's good that part's the same.]

Yeah. She is. Things are better now that she doesn't have to hide part of herself. Growing up, she wasn't allowed to dance around the house because of how you left them, you know. Now it's hard to get her to stop. [Made him feel like a terrible boyfriend, since he was reluctant to do anything like that. Bouncing around her as a wolf was the closest he got.] She likes Atole. Red-tailed hawks. The color pink... Flowers. Flying. Oh -- she's got this dorky superhero costume she made in her room. I should have made her wear it...not that I have my phone, so I couldn't show you anyway. It just would have been great to have a picture.

[That does get him to raise an eyebrow. Two entire lives? Even Dodger, with the plethora of clashing worlds in his head, didn't have full pieces. Though, that could have easily been because the man punched holes in the life he had, literally and figuratively.

He doesn't ask about it. Cliff is talking about Coco and just like that, nothing else matters.

He looks up, not seeing the sky or the buildings or anything really. He's in his own, painting the image of a little girl over a girl still little but just a bit older.

Things are better now that she doesn't have to hide part of herself. That hits him with a pang. He knows the feeling. He wishes she didn't. But she's happy. She's still happy. And he can see it, her dancing still.

Atole. Red-tailed hawks. Pink, as before. Flowers still. Flying is new, and he laughs with the surprise of it. Flying. She would've liked his wings, he realizes.

He's blinking back tears before Cliff even gets to a talk of silly costumes. He swallows hard against the pain in his throat, tries to focus on pulling the smoke off his cigarette, but this time he doesn't succeed in pushing it back. He has to raise his free hand and wipe at his eyes. Coco... His sweet girl...]

That's her. That sounds like her. [He misses her. He misses her still. So much.

He needs to pause, to get a hold of himself so he doesn't just break down completely. Yet, at the same time, a smile tries to break out.]

A picture would have been wonderful. I love that about this time. Photos all the time. I've just got one. One of her and her Mamá. It was- It was how Miguel got confused, see. I was in the picture once. Guitar, suit. But when he had come to have it, I'd been torn out. Miguel just saw the guitar. He carried that thing the whole way, until the end. I was so happy to see it again. To see her, even just in a picture.

[His eyes squeeze shut for a moment.]

I would have told her so many stories... about heroes. And flying. I would have found a way to take more pictures.

[And dancing. She always did love to dance. But in this respect, he understands why music couldn't be allowed again. It was for the best.

Not that it had saved Miguel.]

I should have seen her in him. In Miguel. I should have seen the things that carried along. But it never occurred to me. I had grandchildren and I didn't even know their names. I have great-grandchildren who I've never seen. [He laughs faintly.] And they all hate me. As they should now. [He takes a long drag from the cigarette.]

But she sounds... as perfect as she always did. And it sounds like you were a good friend to her.

[He goes ahead and does Héctor a solid by looking at the ground and smoking, instead of watching him. He scratches the back of his leg with his other foot as it's his turn to listen, this time. It wouldn't even make any sense for Miguel to have inherited his hoodie, it was a completely different time and place, but! He can't help but wonder! It's a weird, wormy butterfly feeling. Cliff tries to focus more on the fact that there were generations that hated this Héctor. That didn't know what had happened, or how hard he tried to get back. To make up for what he'd done.

...Assuming he did, anyway.]

She is perfect. [The idea that there could be anyone that doesn't agree is almost unthinkable. He loves! This girl!! So much that it's starting to feel a little like he's lying to her dad, even if it was true that she was his best friend in that life, taking Oscar's place in a lot of ways. Not to mention, much as he loved Oz, sorry dude -- Coco's prettier.

His free hand finds his pocket again.] I don't know what all happened that no one knew about you, but she definitely didn't hate you for screwing it all up. There was a bunch of this old stuff she kept hidden so it wouldn't get thrown out, like from when you and her mom were our age. I think maybe your Coco had stuff like that she couldn't show anyone, just in case, you know? If it wasn't gone already.

[She held his old things. He didn't have much. Lots of music, but it can't be that. He wonders. But more than that-]

I don't know if that makes it better. [The thought is an aching one.]

I let her down all those years. And when she passes and finds I'm still not there, I'll let her down again. Or worse, if no one finds Miguel in time.

[The idea makes him want to scream. It makes him itch for a bat and something to break. But he'll lose this, the chance to know his daughter even in a small way.]

I cursed them. Not literally, but... I cursed my family. They banned music for generations, nothing of it, nothing of me. They were good. They were safe. Then Miguel comes along, insisting on it. Has to follow his great-great-grandfather De La Cruz's footsteps.

[He lets out a shuddering breath and scrubs his face again.]

I wanted to apologize. I wanted her to know I loved her. But maybe it's better if she's let go. Maybe that's why she never told anyone either. She'll hurt less. She doesn't deserve to be hurt like that. [Not that he can help it now.]

... Can you tell me about how you met her? Little things.

Edited 2021-08-02 17:11 (UTC)

[He's not helping, which he shouldn't really be that surprised by. Even when there were things he could do to help, he hadn't always been able to -- things like this, like feelings... He only ever really talked about that stuff with his mom or little brother. Family he trusted to love him and listen. Here, this guy's family shut him out completely. He bites the inside of his cheek to distract himself, just a little. Not enough to hurt or to take him out of the conversation completely.

It'd be really nice if he could bluster on by with how no one could blame him for Miguel, living or dead, but everything about the family history sort of, uh, already invalidated that. It's frustrating for him to not have been given a chance by anyone but Coco, who never got to have her happy reunion like she did when she was his Coco. He wants to tell Héctor he's being an idiot and of course she knew, even if she hadn't been able to hear it from him in so long, because his Coco had been sure. But he remembers her hesitation before opening the records that were their first real clue they found together. The what if of doubt for something Cliff was sure of when it came to his own circumstances. Coco's dad had loved her beyond words. His dad ditched before he could try becoming one for real.

Besides. The Coco he talks about isn't the same Coco, even if she's still her.]

Uh, sure. [Between the smoke and his thoughts, he has to clear his throat before he speaks again. He'd already mentioned how she'd come to his school, but... A little smirk threatens the corner of his lips.] I was setting off these little balls of fireworks. It was the end of summer, so I'd just missed the real shows and had to trade for a few of the leftover ones. I didn't even know she followed me onto the roof until she was saying how cool it was. All that practice sneaking around, she was pretty good at it. Sucked at lying, so she had to admit pretty quick she wasn't a student.

[Back then, he'd kind of thought it sounded like a fun mystery. Case of the Disappearing Dad, the Forgotten Father. That's how it would have been, if it were a book about a caper instead of how serious it turned out.]

She was staying in this third floor dorm with another student that was a bird. Freaked him out when I climbed through the window the first time, he almost blew our sneaking mission before we even started. Tobias is a good guy, though, even if he didn't like my brand of trouble. [The laughter dies before it comes out. Yeah. Tobias had been good. He wonders if maybe Raven, the other boy that shifted into a bird, had been like that, once -- only Raven was all too eager to play along with Clifford's troubles. How much of that had been him, and how much had been him being sick?] Anyway... He got a roommate eventually, but I still had an extra bed. Uh, she started staying with me. I'm still surprised she doesn't hate me, after having to deal with me like that.

[Héctor doesn't need to know about how he didn't come back one night, or how terrified that had made her. How he'd made her cry, because it wasn't the first time she'd had to go through something like that. Even if that time he'd disappeared, it hadn't been Héctor's fault at all, hearing about it would still just make him feel guilty all over again. That doesn't mean Cliff doesn't think about their promise to find one another if they were lost or feel his chest tighten.]

...She really helped me out. I could trust her, and -- and she could trust me. We didn't have that before. I wish my other friends could meet her. Some of them probably wouldn't believe she could ever like a guy like me.

[Setting off fireworks. He remembers, despite his fury, Ernesto. He remembers when they were young, seeing the other boy's delight. He remembers the two of them nearly setting themselves on fire after stealing one for themselves and trying to light it.

It's something else to hear of Coco, and to hear of these wild adventures at once. She's met the same wild sorts that he did, it seems. Running into magic, into beings that shouldn't be but simply were.]

Sounds like she grew into a knack for trouble. Wonder where she got that from. [He laughs.] My friend, where I last came from, they used to say I sucked at lying too. I'll have it known, I've gotten better.

[He thinks he's probably supposed to say something about Cliff and Coco rooming together. It's what fathers are supposed to do. He can't muster it.

We didn't have that before, Cliff says. We. He looks Cliff over and he starts to see something there that he didn't catch on to. He looks down again, smiling at the ground as he draws another breath of smoke.]

You'd be surprised, the chances people are willing to take on those who mean so much to them. It's hard sometimes, to find someone you really trust or care for like that. When you do, it's even harder to think of ever losing it.

She gets a lot from both of you.

[He remembers a shoe sailing through the air and the look of indignation the moment before it melted into surprise. The retributive kick to her kidnapper. The notches in a post from where she'd been struggling even before the rest of them knew she was ever in trouble. ...The fire in her eyes when she suspected what Carl had been doing, and again when it was confirmed. Sweet as she was, her determination was something to be feared and not just admired. That's Imelda. The tender look he'd gotten from the woman, however briefly, was enough to tell him it wasn't just that that made her impressive.

Whatever was left of his smile after the memory of Raven fades as he sighs.]

Yeah.

[But he did lose her. He wasn't sure how to find her like he said he would, or how she was ever supposed to find him. If he managed to get back to her, what about Oscar and Sylvia? He might even miss Darcy a little. About the same amount she could respect his personal space.

Cliff can't help but to wonder if, despite choosing him and saying what she'd said, that's how it had been for his mom before he ruined things. Twice.]

Can't believe I don't have either of my phones.

[That makes him smile.]

She does.

[He would never deny at least some of the trouble came from Imelda. And she was as lovely, as good. She was as vibrant.

They'll have each other, someday. And all the rest of their family. At least there'd be that. However Miguel ended up, he'd be looked after. He's sure of that.

He laughs faintly.]

I know what you mean. I had one of them phone thingies back where I came from. All those pictures, gone. And then my flask, ay, I used that for everything and now I'm never going to find one. I came here with three things and only the photo is any good to me.

[He shakes his head.]

But, that's what happens. You go to a new world or you die and go to a new world and it's all starting over from there. Ground up, literally.

[He scoffs lightly before going back to his cigarette, thinking how...unhelpful that this. It's true and it's helping Héctor get by, but for him, he's not seeing how it's much better than giving up. That wasn't something he was supposed to do! He liked him better when he was a skeleton.

...Okay, maybe he should try to think more charitable thoughts than that. Not this guy's fault he's from, like, the Depression, or whatever.]

You say something about never finding another flask?

[Kid, he IS the Depression.]

The people here don't drink, right? No alcohol or whatever. Not likely any of them has a flask laying around.

I used to use one where I came from. It was the best way to, ah, calm down my own head. Hard to poison a flask and all. I'd fill it with water or whatever I had that was mostly safe.

[Could never be one hundred percent certain, after all.]

[He sure is. And he's really bumming Clifford out.]

You've got to be kidding me... No supervision and I still get nothing? This place sucks!

[oh, wait, one of those words was important.]

Poison? Dude, is someone always trying to kill you?

[He snorts, at first just because it's amusing. Poor kid. He remembers the trouble he got in when he and Ernesto broke into the bar's private stores.

Of course, then that amusement gets all tangled up and what bubbles out is a laugh far too hysterical for comfort. He covers his mouth and takes a moment, then another as he takes a drag. He blows the smoke up and out to the sky, thinking it over.]

... Yeah, pretty much. First time was the same guy as you know it to be, at least. [Like that's a consolation prize.] I've died like eight times at this point if we count that and being forgotten and going to dust. Technically all murders in some way, shape, or form but I managed to narrowly avoid a second poisoning.

Edited 2021-08-02 22:34 (UTC)

Hell.

[ding-ding, not that he's making a guess. Just, dude? Dude??? You're not okay! The laugh was one of the best indications of that so far, and Cliff feels his body language closing off ]

Even if Oscar didn't keep surviving his near-death experiences, I think you'd have him beat. Sorry.

[Being irreverent is pretty much the only way he's going to cope with this right now.]

Hey, so... Don't take this the wrong way, but I liked it more when you were a skeleton. Sounds like you were better off, too.

[He gives a long flat look. Rude.]

I don't think there's a right way to take that, kid. [He shrugs before taking yet another drag.] I was a skeleton. I was a skeleton for a long time, it's my preferred state. Even in that place, for a bit, until some nonsense after my last death.

But, if I hadn't wound up there again, I simply wouldn't exist. [Though he supposes one could argue it's better off. He probably would, if he didn't have Nekane. He weighs his words a moment. Then, he decides, fuck it.]

I'm guessing what you mean is, you liked me better before I went to Hell. Not surprising.

Edited 2021-08-03 00:08 (UTC)

[Rude's his job. He can handle being rude, getting told he's rude, all of it. He's less prepared for what Héctor can dish out back, no matter how gentle the tone -- gentle in comparison to the words, anyway. He's sucking in smoke to exhale out dramatically one second, and choking on it the next. He brings his arm up to muffle himself in the sleeve until his lungs calm back down. Well...he probably deserves to be feeling that one for a while.]

I -- [hhhh] -- meant the arm archery. Fuck.

[It...doesn't make a lot of sense. Even with the pain he caused, he -- wait. Okay. Okay, breathe.]

You don't actually mean Hell Hell?

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