returning nightmares only shadows

[withimagination]

WHO? Eames and you!
WHAT? Eames' male spider posse (save him), watching fights, drinking and thinking
WHEN? vaguely around now in Spiderland
ANYTHING ELSE? I can match you with prose or action spam!

( Prompt 1 | like a toy spinning too fast )

It's ridiculous, but after his public victory over Heneb, some of the males are actually copying his outfits, which tend to trend toward extremely colorful on their own. But Eames decides to test the limits of this. And every time, they start wearing what he's wearing.

So there's a very good explanation as to why Eames is wearing a bright orange ascot. But it doesn't stop him from looking ridiculous. Rather, he's just made all the male spiders look ridiculous too.

The other side effect of this victory is a little fan club. They oo and ah and ask him to say the line, say the line! Eames smiles stiffly for the thousandth time, and says, "Heneb, I seem to have caught you in your own web... of lies."

And then he spots you and starts hurrying toward you, even if Eames doesn’t really know you. "Excuse me, gents. Urgent business to attend to."

He sidles up to you and murmurs, "Get me out of here or they'll make me tell more jokes."


( Prompt 2 | like a ghost )

The stadium is weird. Supposed to be entertaining, kind of terrifying instead. It reminds Eames of the carnage back in his days in the British army in Project Somnacin's test dreams, getting trapped under rubble, getting stabbed just so that the higher-ups think you can handle the pain. And that was before the somnacin was really stable, before the soldiers could even support a whole level when they were under duress.

Eames is supposed to be made of tougher stuff than this.

He gets up, leaves as quickly and quietly as he can. He's craving a cigarette, but, even if they have some here, Eames wants to save his money. He digs in his pocket for his poker chip and bumps right into someone, his poker chip dropping to the ground.

"I'll get it," he says quickly if they bend to pick it up.

Or maybe you run into him later, feeding his terrible, renewed smoking addiction. John wasn't kidding; this is stronger. He leans against a wall, closing his eyes and breathing in the smoke. He puffs it out, murmuring, "Christ," under his breath.


( Prompt 3 | like a wildfire )

He has a table to himself, and he’s quiet compared to the chaos around him. He's careful not to draw attention to himself, since so many Araneans get so overexcited during games. He's thinking, kind of stumped after his last attempt to sneak anywhere was pretty much a bust.

It's packed in the bar, so when he sees a fellow COST member, he waves you over.

"You're welcome to sit with me,” he says over the noise, "You're not likely to find a seat elsewhere."


( Prompt 4 | wildcard )

[ooc: or anything else! Leave me a prompt or pp me on plurk for something different!]

Comments

Wildfire;

[verumdicit]

He's charmed, really, that a handsome man is waving him over in a bar. Sadly it's not because of reasons he'd hoped, but there's a nice familiarity in the action, and Meliorn wastes no time sliding over. He's dressed to the nines, as most are here, hair down and perfectly straight, the return of his eyeshadow. It's an offset to the scarring on half his face, at least, but he's hoping his smile makes up for it.

"Are you sure that's a wise choice?" There's a teasing tone to his voice, taking a seat anyway. "I'm viewed as a snack here. You might be too by mere proximity."

[withimagination]

"Are you, now?" he muses quietly, always interested when he runs into people who possess magic. His mind always supplies dream sharing when he tries to think of what it must be like. It's science, but it feels like a secret magic to Eames, something indescribable, that makes his heart beat a little faster.

He smiles, grateful for the company in all honesty. It was getting rather dull, him caught up in his own mind. He's not sure how Arthur worries this much all the time. He holds out his hand to shake.

"I think I'll take my chances. Eames."

[verumdicit]

"A man who takes risks." He pauses, shaking the other's hand, and glances up. "--Man, correct? It's often hard to tell with other COST members." He looks like a normal mundane, after all, but Meliorn can never be too sure. He'd rather err on the side of politeness.

It's fairly obvious on Meliorn's side-- pointed ears, blue in his hair, vine markings along a scar on one side of his face. His smile is charming, even as he glances over at a group nearby. He seems, for the most part, to not be an interest. Something more interesting going on gives him a bit of a break.

"I haven't seen you before. New arrival?" The name Eames is familiar, but he can't quite place it, not yet...

[withimagination]

Eames grins openly, tickled by his politeness. "Yes, a man. Nothing more, nothing less."

He tries to subtly look over the scars on the side of his face, the ears.

"Sort of. I was here a while ago, but I was transferred. Then I came back. Rather glad I did because my associate's here."

He pauses, not meaning to sound rude, but interested in the other man. "May I ask about your pointed ears? You're not human, yeah?"

[verumdicit]

"Correct. I am a Seelie Knight from my realm." He doesn't have the heart to mention the whole Shadowhunter world or try to explain that it's what most people here view as modern day New York. Too crowded, for one, and Meliorn likes the idea of playing mysterious. Even if his associate's here---

--"Ah. Arthur. Tall, neat hair, surprisingly graceful dancer?"

[withimagination]

He nods, very interested in this. He knows a bit about fae in myths, but not enough to really pull information from that beyond that he's not human. He takes a gulp of his drink before his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Ah... yes, actually. How did you know?" ('Has Arthur been talking about me??')

[verumdicit]

Meliorn couldn't hide his smirk even if he wanted to. His brow raises, leaning forward.

"He's spoken of you," he says simply--casually, like he can't tell he's hooked Eames in. "He seems to have carved out quite a niche."

[withimagination]

Eames leans forward unintentionally, furrowing his brow. Why would Arthur speak of him? And when did Meliorn dance with Arthur? That's just unfair; Eames has known the man for years and has never even got him to tap a foot.

"What do mean?"

He realizes he's leaning forward in interest and adjusts his posture, though he knows it's far too late to dissuade the man of his interest in the subject.

"You know, I don't think you gave me your name." It's pointed out with a bit of a brow raise.

[verumdicit]

It's fun to string this one along, he feels almost like he's at home--and the smirk turns into a smile.

"Buy me a drink," he says softly, "and I'll explain. You can call me Meliorn," and thank God it's no longer 'Melvin' thanks to World War I. He does make sure to keep his voice friendly and light. It's all in good fun, after all.

like a toy;

[inconstantly]

After his victory and subsequent injuries John is finally on the mend. His body still hasn't fully healed and he knows he has to take it easy, but damn does it feel good to walk again.

John still has to walk slowly, and is forced my his body to rest after several minutes. His shirt bulks a little around his midsection where bandages cover the sensitive area. Currently to stretch his legs he takes a leisurely stroll with his pipe. The spider tobacco definitely helps with both the pain and the cravings, well worth the risk. He's enjoying another puff when another man quickly stands next to him, brushing up against the bandages.

With a wince John wraps an arm around his stomach. "Not so close if you don't mind." That's when he realizes. That voice. "Mr. Eames I presume?"

[withimagination]

He feels bad, obviously having hurt the other man, and steps back a little. That's when John realizes who he is, and vice versa. He blinks, then grins at the other man.

"Yes, that's me. Joe Strummer, my, my, my! You look different than I imagined."

John's a little more attractive than Eames would like to admit, but he's not about to make a move. Things are bit too complicated in Eames' head to even think of that right now.

"I'm sorry for the bump into you, my friend. How're you holding up?"

[inconstantly]

"I'm on the mend as you can see, but unfortunately I'm unable to walk long before I have to sit." John leans his head toward Eames, bending while staying careful to not the bump his injuries.

"But you can help by telling me how you imagined I looked." John gives an easy wink before continuing along the path chosen for himself. "Though if it's anything less than flattering I do believe I hold every right to terminate the conversation."

[withimagination]

Eames pauses as John walks on, then grins and walks a little faster to catch up with him.

"Not unflattering! Just, I thought you'd be cute! Not... this fit," he murmurs in hopes that John will just let that not-very-slick comment slide. He cant help that John's his type. He clears his throat, walking alongside him now.

"If you have spare time, I'm craving a smoke."

[inconstantly]

John definitely catches the remark and gives a lift of both eyebrows in both assessment and to relay the message that he'd heard. In another time and place John would have pursued the comment relentlessly, growing close to Eames and demanding to know more in a tone both authoritative and inviting.

But he does let the comment slide, just as Eames had hoped for. What John chooses to address instead is the smoking comment, to which he lifts his pipe proudly between them.

"Not only do I have spare time, I have a spare pipe and tobacco as well. Mind if we find somewhere to sit?"

[withimagination]

He feels a keen sense of relief at John letting it go, though he's not sure why. He shouldn't be embarrassed. It's a problem he's been having a lot lately.

He brightens at the comment, nodding. "Not at all. I do love a man who comes prepared."

And then he's pointing at a little alcove off to the side. "Thought I'd quit smoking, but COST got me back into it."

[inconstantly]

"Ah, another smoker?" John too brightens. "Tell me, where have you gotten your cigarettes? I found a great deal at one of the missions and hoarded as many as I could, but since then they've been hard to come by."

He heads to the alcove, reaching into his inner pocket to hand Eames the spare pipe. "So as you can see, I've improvised."

[withimagination]

Eames accepts it with a grin and a nod. "Yes, I see that. Bummed some off another COST member to be honest. Shit's stressful around here."

He holds out a hand, an offer to help John sit, and then sits himself at the alcove. The pipe seems to delight him, and he grins as he looks over it. "Did you really make these?"

[inconstantly]

John takes the hand as he sits, knowing far too well by now that accepting help is far less painful than if he doesn't.

After settling with a grimace John gives Eames a quick "ta" before reaching into his coat for the tobacco and lighter. "You doubt my craftsmanship? Of course I did. Took a few goes to perfect but when you can do nothing else but sit one has to keep mind and hands occupied."

He begins to pack the pipe with the tobacco from the small bag before handing the bag to Eames. "Watch yourself with that stuff, it's got a kick."

2 / like a ghost.

[duskmeadow]

The only way Vax knows to deal with the aftermath of his own gruesome death in the arena is to head straight back to it. The after-effects of the tube still mark him; there's a black cast to his eyes that has yet to clear. It doesn't impede his sight, but it makes people double-take in a way Vax finds irritating. But there's only so much mileage he can get out of baring his teeth at anyone who looks sideways at him.

Eames is a welcome interruption, even if he presents himself scrabbling for a bit of coin. Or what looks like a coin to Vax, who doesn't see much value in such a strangely colored bit of money.

"How much is it worth?" is the first question that comes to mind. Vax's tone is faintly judgemental. "Enough for a drink?"

Because Vax wants a drink. Or to find Vex, who would likely understand exactly what Vax is feeling in this moment without him having to explain it to her.

[withimagination]

Eames doesn't really blink at the black eye thing now. He's been on base, so he saw a lot of that. The assumption that his poker chip is money, though, alarms him.

He pauses, feeling a little ridiculous for having scrabbled for it. "It's not money. Useless, really, in this world. I could use a drink. I'll buy you one if you keep me company. I'm too far inside my own head," he mumbles, starting to walk off in the general direction of the shopping/entertainment area of Jhashch.

like a ghost

[handsomefoil]

He feels like a perpetrator returning to the scene of the crime, where he fell and disappointed not only himself but those who believed in him. Granted, he didn't have the most popularity points, but he has to consider those who identify as his friends. His comrades. People he actually begins to trust and care about, and those in return.

When he runs in Eames, caught up in his own thoughts, he doesn't move to pick up the chip. He watches Eames pick it up and recalls the totem. Something he'd considered making one for himself for any future dives into the dream world.

"Oy, you alright?" He instinctively places a hand on Eames's shoulder as he's straightening up, giving it a pat for good measure before drawing it back into his pocket.

[withimagination]

Eames blinks, recognizes Henry, and grins in relief. "Henry!" he breathes out, putting a hand on Henry's shoulder, steady, a replacement for a hug because he's pretty sure Henry would freeze up if he hugged him.

"You have no idea how good it is to actually see you. This bloody world just..." He pauses, his face souring a little. "I forgot how violent this war is when I was running around after a crocodilian artifact."

[handsomefoil]

For a moment, Henry does think Eames is going to go in for a hug just from the hand on his shoulder alone. There is a brief second where he does tense a little, but Eames is also one of the few people he'd accept a relatively non-awkward hug from, at least. There's some comfort in knowing that.

He offers a sympathetic sort of snort.

"I can only imagine how jarring this must all be. You'll have to tell me more about this 'other mission' of yours and these crocodilians some day."

[withimagination]

His hand falls from his shoulder, a softer smile on his face now.

"If you're not doing anything now, I was thinking about getting a drink."

It would be really nice to just... hang out and drink, he thinks. He's missed Henry a great deal. It was a little bit jarring and lonely to be switched to another cell.

[handsomefoil]

It's Henry's turn to smile, letting out a huff of a laugh that seems to burst forth like he'd been holding it in this entire time.

"Bloody hell, yeah... a drink sounds amazing right about now."

He's eyed a few places here and there, but never really had the mindset for it then. Too wary of his surroundings, keeping his mannerisms in check. At least, for now, he doesn't give a flying rat's arse.

"Know a place? I could use a recommendation myself."