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

Oh! No, no!

[He says it quick, waving his hands and nearly putting out his cigarette that way. He pulls a breath from it quick.]

No, sorry, I didn't mean to downsell it. They really are nice places. Way fancier than I've ever lived in. I guess I just miss my old place, in Hell. Heck, I even miss shantytown. But here's really not bad.

[His mouth presses a moment, weighing the decision before he makes it. It's risky, but, Cliff is just a kid. And more importantly, he knew Coco. If they were friends, then surely there's nothing wrong with him.]

I could show you my place, if you want. You could see what they're like before you make any decisions.

[Shantytown... Maybe he'll ask what's up with that later, but for the moment he holds the butt of his cigarette between his lips as he sighs around it and folds his arms behind his head. There are his own reservations about going with Héctor, no matter how he tries to fit the man into the image he already has in mind. The differences in places don't exactly help ease the anxiety of being in a new, mysterious place.]

I don't know. I mean... You're probably sharing it with your Hell friend, right? Neither of you know me. [And he doesn't know them...]

I'd let them know I was bringing someone along before I just dropped in. Neither of us likes surprises and we don't take well to home invasion. We wouldn't do that to each other.

[But, Cliff does make a very good point. He looks skyward.]

I probably wouldn't have offered if you hadn't said you were Coco's friend. I have to believe that you're not dangerous to us, or else you'd be dangerous to her.

[And he can't have that. He shakes his head and draws his smile back, before drawing in and letting out a puff of smoke. His cigarette is nearly dwindled to nothing.]

It's no problem. Just a silly idea. This place looks so quiet, you could probably sleep outside without a problem if you really wanted to.

[Right... That makes sense. He could see the other Héctor or Teto doing something like that on a whim, swept up in the moment, but it's a relief to hear that, even though it's more evidence of what he's been through, the man wasn't going to spring that on someone. He makes a mental note to not climb in through their windows until he knew them much, much better so that he doesn't get shot or something. If something like that was even possible.]

Believe me, I thought about it. If there were a woods or field, maybe.

[He doesn't feel like being some dirty dog in the alley that someone would try to take home and clean up. Cliff closes his eyes before exhaling a frustrated grumble.]

Yeah, I mean. I'd trust you before someone else. It's fine if it's cool by you, but it's not a big deal. You don't have to worry about it.

[Smart kid. He's slept with knives on him because of certain people and demons trying to pop on by.]

I think there's a garden. Not the same but maybe close. [He probably shouldn't encourage it but it's not like he hasn't slept outside himself. Often.

He looks Cliff over, considers that whole not worrying about it thing, then bobs his head.]

Come on. It's not too far from here.

[He finishes the last bit of cigarette and then quickly pinches the end of it between his fingers before dropping it. A stupid move to some but he'd prefer a burn on his hands than his bare feet. Without missing a beat, he pulls the phone back up and quickly messages Nekane that he's bringing someone by, a kid (and ergo, not a threat).]

Nekane's probably not home but don't freak out if you do see them. They won't care but I still won't like it.

Not many places to stay out of sight in a garden. Someone watching me while I sleep isn't something I'm into.

[Not unless he trusted them, and even then it was uncomfortable, obviously. Crashing on Oscar's couch had probably meant Sylvia was floating above him at some point. With her having flipped out on him for a second... No. It had been shitty when Oscar didn't feel comfortable with him after he'd saved his life, and he'd already felt like a monster. Sylvia had just been trying to protect Oscar. From him.

I don't know what you'll do. There is something wrong with you.

Man. Fuck that.

He notes the name while trying to get as much as he can out of his dwindling cigarette before giving up and tossing it down to crush under his shoe. It might be a little more forceful that a burned down stick warrants, but when he looks back up and over, he's curious and focused on the current conversation again.]

What do you mean?

I can understand that.

[He can understand that real well. He remembers Dodger using his power to sneak around and the thought has his skin crawl, which is in itself unpleasant.

But with that, his voice softens.]

There are parts of them that might look a little creepy to some people. But they don't deserve to be treated like a monster. And I don't want to give them the excuse to treat themself like one.

[He lets that be as it is for a moment. They've gotten better, leagues better, but it was still something they'd struggle with just as he had his own plethora of problems.]

... Though I guess they don't look as inhuman as they used to since I helped carve their wings off, so it'll probably be fine.

Edited 2021-08-05 17:12 (UTC)

[Clifford falls quiet as he turns the thought over in his head. There had been an awful lot of monsters and other magical beings in the past year -- horrible things. Really, really terrifying things. Very rarely were they okay, but the ones that were were pretty damn good, and he...can sympathize with not wanting to be looked at like a monster, no matter how much you feel like one yourself. Héctor was good for looking out for his friend.]

It's fine. I've probably seen worse anyway, it's not a big deal.

[He turns a smile Cliff's way, one that's real and genuinely grateful.]

Thanks.

[He's glad they can just skip over that.]

You must have come from somewhere pretty interesting if you've seen things yourself.

[Cliff barks a laugh before he can think to stop himself. Even after what he'd all been through in both versions of his life, it sounds like such a ridiculous claim.]

Podunk, Oklahoma. Podunk. Weird shit's just been happening since I started hanging with Oscar. He's the trouble magnet, which is ridiculous because he's pretty boring otherwise.

[Podunk. That figured. It makes him grin and lift a brow before shaking his head.]

Team boring while neck deep in strangeness and trouble. He and I would've had a lot to talk about it. But it's hard to stay on the normal side of things once you've brushed shoulders with enough weird.

[His grin becomes softer as he looks down at his shoes instead.]

Yeah. You two'd probably be friends.

[The biggest difference is that Oscar had run from everything his life was before and been happy, and Héctor had tried so hard to make his way back.]

At least it keeps things interesting, and the boring days aren't bad, I guess. He always gave me a place to hang out if my other friends were busy and I didn't feel like going home.

He sounds like a really good friend.

[He envies that, something casual and easy. Something he thought he had.

But, at the same, he's happy with what he has now.]

We had boring days in Hell, if you could believe that. I think it was part so that the punishments could still have their impact but it doesn't really matter why. A lot of days I just woke up, made coffee for Nekane and I, tried to sneak some more books in our house, watched some horrible movie with them, maybe wandered around, and that was it.

Give us some time and we'll have this house filled with towers of books and awful films just the same. I guarantee it.

[okay that's great, but since Oscar's on the brain -- ]

Ever watch Terminator 2?

[When he absorbs the actual information, his smile doesn't fall even though he's shaking his head.]

It really does sound boring. That was fine in Hell, but you need to get a life now that you're out.

[He snorts.]

If I did, I don't remember it. Could never pay attention during movies.

[He was always just watching Nekane's reactions instead.]

Get a life, he says. Maybe I like boring! I was thinking of treating this like a retirement. What exactly would I do anyhow?

Edited 2021-08-05 19:45 (UTC)

[awful]

Great, another reason Oscar would be thrilled to meet you, and it would get me out of watching it again.

[RETIREMENT]

Oh, come on. [He looks too young for retirement, even if he's been dead for ninety years or whatever!! And boring is boring...] You could teach music. I guess with houses being given away, there isn't a shelter to work at, unless it's for animals.

[And there goes the joy of the moment, sucked down a blackhole. A blackhole named music and it takes his grin with it. He glances away.]

I don't play. Not anymore. You'll have to chalk that one up to worldly difference.

[Or rather, his other self not cluing in to what a problem it could be for everyone around him.]

Edited 2021-08-05 21:14 (UTC)

[Cliff's train of thoughts come screeching to a halt and their their feet with him, leaving him to look at Héctor like he'd just claimed his type was snake ladies in hula skirts.]

What the hell? Why not?

[He stops a moment later, turning to frown a Cliff. There's a prickle of irritation-- shouldn't be obvious why? But, no, this is worth clearing up.]

Everything that happened to me, that happened to my family- to all the people I've loved- music has been behind it. I left my family and I lost them for good. I made music a curse for them, for generations. I got to listen to that man play my songs, her song, as I wore down over time. Miguel, a little living boy, is trapped in a cenote in the land of dead because he wanted to chase after my stolen musical legacy. He could be dead right now! And that's to say nothing of the fact that the man I thought was my best friend murdered me for music! Or even that it wasn't the last time that I let music pull the wool over my eyes so I could get myself and others get killed and worse!

[He closes his eyes, mouth twisting. He pulls a breath, trying to calm down.]

... I'm sorry. [He scrubs his face.] I'm sorry. But I can't. I won't do it anymore.

[Good work at keeping your cool, Héctor. The boy is still not happy with the argument, as thorough as it might be. You know teenagers. They're stubborn, and Cliff's face suggests that he's not buying what he's being sold. With a huff, he shifts his eyes forward and goes back to a determined walk.]

Oh, fuck that. Kids like music. They like doing shit they're not supposed to. Not everything is dads and how you're raised, so don't take credit for somebody you had nothing to do with -- and why are you giving that murderer an excuse! He killed you and hurt Coco because he's a fucking bastard, that's it.

[Oh yeah, stellar job. He picks up the pace again too, mood soured as he limps along.]

I didn't say it was fatherhood and raising-- I've barely done any of it! And I'm not giving Ernesto an excuse! If he shows up here I'm going to gut him. But I'm not giving myself an excuse either.

You think it's as simple as there just being a bad guy and that I shouldn't worry from there. If I had nothing to do with it, then how was he even my friend to begin with? How did I miss every single sign that something was wrong? I talked Imelda into things, and I talked myself into it, because I wanted the music, and whenever something was not quite right with him I looked away. This was not some one-time thing, Cliff. I screwed up. A lot. Even after I should have learned my lesson.

[He shakes his head.]

Have you considered that, maybe, the thought of trying to play these days after everything makes me miserable? Is that reason enough not to?

Then just fucking say that!

[Is it so hard for adults to actually say what they mean and to trust the kids sometimes!!! He decides to not slow to account for Héctor's limp or the fact that he has no idea where he's going. It'd ruin the effect.]

Don't feed me bullshit about how music is the problem.

It is a problem! You just don't like that answer, so I'm giving you another one!

[He huffs. What was it with kids and picking his words apart like that?]

What does it matter to you if I play or not anyway?

[because kids are stupid in some ways and adults are stupid in others. they were built to balance one another. that's the only reason aging exists.

He wants to spit back that music is just a thing, and that Héctor did it because he wanted to, same as Ernesto. The words move from the tip of his tongue before settling down in his chest like a burning pebble. True words, but it doesn't explain why he's getting so worked up about it and not just leaving it at "that shit's stupid." Besides, I t's about Héctor not playing, but it also just...isn't.]

It's just the same fucking thing her mom did. And look who that helped! Coco wasn't allowed to be herself, Miguel wasn't allowed to be himself, and now you're all going to die. Play or not, I don't give a shit, but don't act like picking up a guitar was what made you fuck up your life.

It's nothing like what Imelda did! Do you want to know why? Because I haven't said a word to Coco and I never will again! I can't tell her to be herself or not to! I can't help her if she's sad and I can't make her happy! I am not a part of her life!

[It feels like ripping something out of himself every time he says it. He hates it.]

I didn't stop Miguel. Even when I should have. I went along with it and I encouraged him on because once again, I was stupid and swept up in it. I'm not saying it's the kid's fault he likes music. I'm saying it's my fault that I do. I'm the one who gets distracted. I'm the one that brings people to their death. It's music and me.

You don't think, if I could, I'd let them have whatever they wanted?

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