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!]

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[It's putting blame where blame has no business being and using it as an excuse to silence dreams! Except something that sounds less dweeby, which he can't think of, so he can't put into words how that didn't fix a problem, just made another one, and instead he's left to huff.]

Whatever, man. Forget it. [Give up.

He should have snatched the lighter instead of letting Héctor keep it. Another cigarette would be real fucking nice.]

...And forget this. I don't feel like looking at houses anymore, I'll figure it out on my own later.

[He doesn't wait before veering off, immediately tuning out anything Héctor might say and any of the other comments passing by as he kicks up to a light jog. When he's out of Héctor's line of sight, he sprints and sprints until he can find a spot where he can be alone, have some quiet, and look out over part of the city. Calm down.

- - -

Tracking isn't hard, even if he hasn't had a lot of experience with it in either world he remembered, as long as he knows what to look for. He hadn't been paying too close of attention to the man's scent, and it had been masked by smoke for part of the time, but wandering the city until he picks it up is something he decides he's okay with. After some searching, the trail starts to get less faint, and Cliff shoves his hands in his pockets in an effort to look casual even as he walks directly towards the man, wherever he may be.]

Hey. You busy?

Edited 2021-08-06 05:46 (UTC)

[He really should learn to give up sooner. That would probably save everyone a lot of trouble too.

Whatever he might have said is lost to the wind as Cliff darts off. He's not going to stop him from leaving. Least of all because he knows drawing people back never ends well.

But also, in a way, this was probably a good thing. They don't know each other. They don't need to know each other. What business has he talking to his daughter's friends? It's for the better, and he tells himself that as he heads off, pausing only to tell Nekane not to mind after all, and that he's staying out a bit longer.

He rests upon the edge of the fountain. It's nothing close to the same, but this, of all places, feels the most like Santa Cecilia and the land of the dead. The sky is alike, and he stares up at it, one foot dangling in the water, the other leg resting on the stone. At least until Cliff shows up. He shifts and drags himself upright. He takes a moment to fix his hat.]

Not particularly.

[But he's not sure if he's up for whatever this is going to be. He guesses he'll see.]

Cool.

[His tone is far from enthusiastic, and his eyes manage to be just off to the side of Héctor even as he retrieves his pack of cigarettes to pull two and offer one out. Light 'em up, bud. It's probably necessary grease for this conversation, since he has no idea where it's going to go. Just how he's figured he'd start.

Once he can get a good, long drag, he looks skyward like he's watching the smoke dissipate.]

So I kind of got pissed and needed to cool off. Sorry. It wasn't any of my business.

[He doesn't waste time. He pulls out his lighter and lights up both without another word. It's honestly not the tensest or most awkward situation he's been in. It's not even the worst apology, after all is said and done.]

... It's alright. I got mad too. You did the better thing.

[By leaving, that is. Dodger would have stayed, blown up, and ruined something like he always does. Squalo would've sneered and snarked until one of them just shut down.]

You're... her friend. You're looking out for her. In your way.

[He pauses, using the cigarette to give him time to think.]

... I didn't expect to... deal with all this again. Or at all, really. Didn't talk about much in Hell. Even Nekane... I ended up taking care of them, for a while. There just wasn't ever the time and I didn't plan to make any. Maybe if I had, I could've handled that better.

[Cliff hums shortly, shifting his weight to one foot before sighing and sitting on the fountain's edge next to Héctor.]

Nah. My mom hates it when I run off like that.

[So it was the right thing, but not something he was supposed to be doing, anymore. Not that this situation was the same as running away from home and ignoring his phone -- if he had it at all -- because he'd been having an argument with Carl.

The further contrition just gets a vague wave of his hand. He highly doubts Coco would like to hear he was looking out for her like that.]

It's fine. It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it. I can't promise I won't ever get mad again, but since I'm here I can listen to you if you want to talk, got it?

[He hums.]

Best not to make your Mamá unhappy then. But it's fine for now.

[He listens. There's a breath from him, almost a laugh, though it comes out real quiet.]

I wouldn't expect you to never get mad. I don't know how to do that.

[He always feels that anger under the surface now, boiling up over this or that. He lets his eyes close. He's not going to talk about music again. He's not imagining it's going to go any better. The real issue between he and Cliff isn't really music anyway.]

... I'm... jealous. Not just of the obvious things. But of all the living who had to bury their loved ones. I know it's hard, I'm not stupid, I've had to lose people for good in other ways, but I think about it... getting to mourn. It's what you do when you won't ever see someone alive again.

My daughter's alive. She's been alive this whole time. I've never been allowed to mourn. I've never been allowed to... say goodbye. It's always been me trying to reach her. I've never had to stop. I've tried everything, anything.

[He feels that wetness on his cheek. He glances away, quickly wiping at his face, then he stares down at the ground. The cigarette stays close to his lips, his voice quiet.]

Nekane's all I have in any world now. I was thinking, if we hadn't wound up here, I was going to help them redeem out of Hell, like I did once. They'd go to their world and I'd either go with them or... or I'd stop. Go home to oblivion and just stop. But I'm here. And I'm... grateful to be with them... but I need to figure out how... how am I going to live with this? And I don't really think there's an answer.

That's part of why I never really wanted to talk about it. What's anyone supposed to say? Nekane has so much going on... you actually might get to see her again... who else in Hell cares? Who else is... going to understand...? I just want her. I just...

[He could interrupt at any point, but what was there really to say? That hey, don't worry, part of the reason he was so touchy about it wasn't just Coco, but that he was idiot with daddy issues? It's much more productive to sit back, listen, and think about what he's being told. There's something off about it, something in the way Héctor seems so hopelessly alone in feeling that way doesn't quite hit the target, but...he'd been at it so much longer. Cliff's got one whole fucking day under his belt for something that comes anywhere close.

~~also damn they seem like very good friends~~]

It really sucks. I mean... Even if I do get to see her, I'll never see Oscar again. I wouldn't choose even if I could. [There's a loss guaranteed for both of them, should they leave this place. With a sigh of smoke that has him imagining Coco wrinkling her nose somewhere, he dips his free hand into his hoodie.] Look, I can't help you see her or say goodbye -- I guess I could try to take a letter for you? But she isn't...your Coco, so I don't... [He trails off, still reluctant to share it after all that because what if this is the wrong thing, Cliff cautiously pulls the wooden figure out from his pocket.] She gave this to me when I visited Santa Cecilia. I'm not going to give it to you, but if you wanted to see it? I don't know. It was so I'd think of her.

[Maybe holding a piece of her, some small part of some version of her, would be...therapeutic??? He doesn't know, it makes him feel better, even beyond the knowledge that she was really real.]

[Saying it sucks feels a bit like an understatement. It's also such a modern phrasing that it makes his mouth twitch, even when the topic doesn't actually get better.

There's something about it, the knowledge that Cliff wouldn't choose. Nekane's always known that if he could, he'd choose Coco in a heartbeat. He wonders what it makes of him.

He shakes his head at the suggestion of a letter. She's not his Coco and she doesn't need some added pain to her life. His own Coco might finally be free of hers.]

An Alebrije...?

[The little wolf is offered and reaches out slow, with all the care that he reached for that photo in the cenote. The figure itself holds no meaning for him. It reminds of home and his home in the land of the dead, but beyond, it's just a figure. Except, it was she gave, something she held. She wanted to be remembered. He runs a calloused thumb over its side.]

I was out. Preforming. It was... a rather enthusiastic wedding. The party went all night and I played just as long. I came home exhausted. I just wanted to collapse into bed. I can't remember if I did or if she caught me before I made it there. This little thing so upset. She'd thought I'd forgotten about her. That moment, I thought I was at once six years old and two hundred.

I reassured her, went to bed, and when I woke up, I worked on a song. Imelda always had to remind me to get out of the room and eat something when I wrote, but I don't think I'd ever felt so guilty as I had while writing that song. Shut up in a room or out in town... I had to work, but she was my world. I wanted her to know that, even if we couldn't always see each other or say goodnight, she'd always be there in my mind.

[He passes the little wolf back, just as careful.]

Do you want to see her picture? It's not on me, but, I can bring it out.

[To appeal to Héctor's overblown sense of guilt: Cliff's choice is between two best friends, not a daughter he'd been fighting for like a century to get to and a best friend and spouse with a lot of the intimacy being trauma-induced.

When the wolf is out of his hands, he anxiously picks at the side of his shoe and puffs away. It isn't that he things Héctor would really break it or suddenly run off -- or that if he did that, he couldn't easily pin him down and get it back -- but it was a lifeline. A very tiny anchor keeping him from going completely crazy, the same way the red hoodie he wore was. His tension eases a little with the recounted memory, but it isn't until the figurine is back in his hand that he moves his eyes and their predator-like intent from it. Cliff tilts it gently in his hold, looking at the little details they'd talked about that had made Coco choose it. Now that that damn song was 'recuérdame'-ing inside his head along with the sight of her smile, it takes a hard swallow before he can answer. Shit.]

Sure. She must be wearing clothes from forever ago in it, so I can't even imagine. [For all the pictures he'd been able to see of the girl during his visit, not even mentioning the ones they'd taken together.] ...I think it's a rule or something, anyway. Parent shows the embarrassing baby pictures to the boyfriend or girlfriend?

[That could make a slight bit of difference. Maybe.

He laughs faintly at forever ago, but within a moment his expression completely shifts. He goes from a furrowed brow to widening eyes. His mouth hangs just a little as he turns to stare at Cliff, seeing him with new eyes. And then, slowly, his mouth stretches into a wide grin.]

Ha! Aaah! You!!

[He practically jumps, shifting in place so he's facing Cliff even more. His hands hover in the air, go to cover his mouth, and then hover again.]

Really?! You're together! Oh! Oh, that's so wonderful!

[If he'd known it was going to be like this, he would have kept his stupid mouth shut!! It's hard to say what's worse: this excitement or the knowing eyebrow-raising and comments. Both are bad, and he doesn't have the mental bandwidth to compare the two at the moment when he's distracted by all that movement. More focused on protecting the alebrije than anything in his jerky lean away from Héctor, he nearly loses his cigarette in bracing himself, hand against the fountain.]

Hey -- [Nothing too accusatory or upset, since even a Hell version of Coco's dad that he'd been fighting with the day before was preferable to most people, but damn! Give a guy some warning before you start in on the gesturing that risked entering his personal bubble, even a little.] Jeez! It's not that big a deal!

[it is, and he's glad on some level that this is the reaction because it's something he's personally a fan of, too. just!!!! stop!!]

Are you kidding? It's a very big deal! My girl is in love and I get to meet him!

[Well, an alternate version anyway. He wants to reach out but he also doesn't want to so his hands never do anything more than the hovering they're doing, though he pulls them close again to his heart. He's barely remembering his own cigarette.]

You look the age I was when I married Imelda. Maybe a bit older. The kids always seem to do things later and later.

Ah...! This is incredible! This is something. I have so many more questions! Have you been together long?

[someone kill him he wants to die, especially at the reminder of how young the pair had been.]

I'm sixteen, yeah. [His confirmation is half-mumbled, and his face is work on camouflaging him with his hoodie.] That's not -- we wouldn't for a few years. Not until I was eighteen at least, there's laws, I think?

[IT DEFINITELY ISN'T SOMETHING HE PANIC-SPIRALED TO HIMSELF ABOUT EVERY DAY FOR A MONTH MMMMM]

I, uh -- [He could just turn into a wolf and run away, never to deal with this again. Héctor looks so happy, though, that not all of the warm fuzzy feelings inside him are nausea.] About a month... We -- we haven't said that or anything! I don't know. [What if she isn't there yet, don't rush her and put L words in her mouth!!]

[His heart is melting. This is too sweet. If anyone's dying around here.,,]

Ah, so you're still in the early stage. Those are good times. Very good memories. You'll want to treasure those.

[If Cliff wasn't doing so already.]

Treat each other well then.

[He rises up quick.]

Come! I've got to show you the photo now! If it's a tradition, that is.

Why are we still talking about this? [he asks himself in a hushed voice, and though it makes him startle again, it's a relief when Héctor springs to his feet. Yes! Please! Let's move on! He scrambles to join the other man, wooden wolf returning to his pocket, and good fucking god it's hot, it was hot before but it's even hotter now that his skin is on fire? Why is wearing his hoodie the most convenient mode of carrying it, he's dying.

But he's ready! For potentially more dying.]

[He laughs and ignores that. Why wouldn't he want to talk about this? Enjoy dying over there Cliff.

He takes the time to really get a few more pulls from his cigarette but he's not going to get it down before they reach his home. He steps up to the place, frowns, then says;]

Wait here.

[Maybe if he's fast he can get in and out without setting anything on fire. He opens up the door.]

Nekane! If you're home, I'm just grabbing the photo!

[With that, he sticks the cigarette in his teeth and darts inside. It's not long before he finds it and he limps back out with a frame tucked under his arm, pulling the door shut behind him and taking the cigarette back up. Success.]

Sorry about that. Are you okay with sitting here on the steps? They don't like cigarettes so I don't usually bring them inside.

[He leans to try and get a look inside, curious despite himself. Who was this mysterious person? What do two people from Hell keep inside their home? Is there air conditioning? At least he gets to enjoy his cigarette at his leisure, though he notices with some disappointment that he did indeed squish it a little and it wasn't likely going to last as long as it normally would.]

Oh. Sure. [He almost adds that Coco, too, wasn't a fan, but -- nope. Yes, they're going to be talking about her and looking at a picture of her, but he doesn't need to encourage any goofy smiles or comments about how he's so dear, thinking of their sweet girl, díos. Shoving those gross thoughts aside as he sits, he awkwardly unzips and shrugs his way out of his hoodie to fold in his lap. The pockets' contents are bundled safely in the middle. No risk of losing his precious alebrije, cigarettes, or the last handful of gummi bears he'd saved.]

[From the little entryway, there probably isn't much. They haven't been here nearly long enough to accumulate everything they had in Hell, but even that was partially just the making of the homes to begin with.

Héctor settles on the step beside Cliff. It's close but not so close that either of them are invading each other's space more than they have to. He draws out the framed photo and smiles down at it.]

It was tough to get her to hold still that long, but we did our best.

[He passes it over to Cliff.]

That photo doesn't exist like that anymore. The real thing that Miguel had is torn up. But I'm... pretty okay with whatever this is. A copy or something.

[He hugs the bundled hoodie against himself as he leans to study the picture before it's passed off. He’s grinning before he realizes, something small but less ginger than the way he takes hold of the frame’s edges between his fingers. This might be the oldest thing he's ever held, since he never did touch that god’s heart -- but he supposes he can't really know, with it not being the real thing. It’s more than good enough. It was probably more than what Héctor ever would have gotten otherwise.]

Pfh. What’s with these faces? [Héctor’s doing alright, but Imelda especially… He’d been intimidated by her enough in his time as the partner in crime and crush, but even as stern as she seemed, it wasn't quite as severe as she looks here. Seeing her in person probably did a lot to help.

And there was Coco with her braids, ribbons that were presumably pink tied in, really damn cute. Just the same as the one he knows.] Jeez, everyone’s always so somber in old pictures. She looks ready to use her knees as drums…

[And there's the fourth member of their cozy family, music. Looking over the picture again, it makes him think of the Hudson-Norman household pictures, three of them huddled together and then number four usually drifting off a bit. Almost always Cliff or Carl. For a second Cliff thinks about removing the photo and folding the image back to hide the guitar from view -- that might not even be minded -- but he resists the urge.]

It’s cool you get to have it. Here. [And passing it back…] It’s weird to see you all younger in a picture like that. Kind of messes with my head.

[He laughs once. Then again at the drumming comment. He could see it.]

People aren't supposed to smile in pictures. It takes so long to develop, the film could get blurred. I just could never help myself. But trust me, neither of them were all that somber. I'm not sure many were. It was a very special thing to get a photo taken.

[Not the way it is now, so simple and quick. It was a way to immortalize, in a sense. Though not him of course.

He takes the picture back and stares down at it, smiling almost as he was.]

It messes with my head to think of anything else. Imelda, maybe. I can see her as I saw her in the land of the dead. She made it to seventy I think. She has this lovely grey streak. Her voice has changed a little, but not much.

[But Coco was forever a little girl. His brow furrows as he looks over a cliff.]

Did you see me older?

Edited 2021-08-09 00:56 (UTC)

Oh, yeah... Syl loved messing with this old camera -- one of them that spits the picture out right away. She's taken a ton. Huh.

[Not that he knows what tech level she'd been at compared to this Héctor, since he didn't pay that close of attention in school and there were better things for her to teach him about -- and for him to teach her. If it had been the same, though, of course she'd be delighted by polaroids.

He decides to hold back the comment about how seventy was so old, that's crazy to imagine, and how it'd be a shame if her voice had changed enough she couldn't sing anymore when the household abruptly swings into a musical number, since...she wouldn't be doing that, anyway. Instead, he nods before fully registering the question.]

Uh, it's hard to tell. Neither of you look much like you did here, anymore. [All the scars and the looking like he's got a terminal illness (the illness is undeath.)] You both kinda look like shit, so coin flip on who looks like he's doing better. He's pretty busted as a skeleton, too.

Oh! I heard about those! Never tried one but they sound even better than the phones! Having the picture already done right in front of you...

[Why would anyone choose a phone over that? He doesn't get the future sometimes.

He listens and lifts a brow at Cliff's explanations. Then he hast to laugh.]

I'm afraid I'm not much better there. Most of the scars you're seeing right now are because the bones are broken underneath, which I can't actually blame on Hell.

[He lifts a leg, which, with the pants being torn, shows a good solid scar going around the calf and then the knee. He has another on the opposite arm.]

The rest are from a stupid science experiment some demons decided to do [which show in clean straight lines on each limb], but honestly, it's not as bad as it used to be. I used to have all kinds of words and things carved into my back. One on my arm. Had a slash here, [He touches his neck.] and here, [He drags his fingers along his cheekbone.] that I technically did myself, though not willingly. A couple of stab wounds, and some really, really ugly stuff. Vivisection and flaying. That last one really got me.

[What an old person way of thinking... Whatever.

Cliff looks at the scars and gives a small nod. He's about to ask about his ribs when Héctor unloads...all of that.]

Holy shit. [What the fuck!!! Not that it doesn't fit the bill, being Hell and all. He tries not to think about a young boy's voice, desperate as it confides 'Your skin is in the way.'

He doesn't fully succeed in suppressing the shiver.]

[Hm. That was pretty stupid of him.]

Sorry, muchacho. [He offers a faint apologetic smile.] Don't go having nightmares on me now, yeah? No weird foods and don't think about me. I'm fine now anyway. This is place is... well, it's safer.

[He can't quite take his paranoia out of it. Calling it safe is asking for something to go horribly wrong. He very belatedly remembers his cigarette and pulls a breath.]

Definitely good to see the sky.

Edited 2021-08-09 15:33 (UTC)

[The apology makes him scoff, his frown overtaking the grimace that had been there.]

Whatever, don't worry about it. It's fine. Like you said, gonna be better than Hell, here.

[So...it's fine. He doesn't need to deal with a tortured soul comforting him on top of the bad memories and his imagination. Better to get what he still can out of his cigarette, not that there's much life left in it now. Cliff lifts his gaze to the sky, trying to feel the same relief. It's not as good as what he'd had in Podunk.]

Yeah.

[He puts the cinders out on the step.]

...How long have you been here?

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