checkingout | i'm gonna change you like a remix [open]

Entry tags:

i'm gonna change you like a remix [open]

Who: SKYE and YOU
Where: The main lobby, mostly (available elsewhere).
When: February 16th
What: If you're freezing half to death and can't control your powers, clap your hands.
Notes: Anyone is free to have wandered into range and noticed some WEIRD QUAKING going on. Available in prose or commentspam.

Something is very wrong here.

The tremors come intermittently, usually joined with particularly bad shakes on her part. It's not the first time she's noticed it—the bulb in her room shattered on the first day, the bible fell off the night table. Truthfully, she'd hoped "haunted" was the answer. It'd fit with the rest of the creepy atmosphere.

But this is something else. Blankets bundled around her, Skye departs her room, thinking it'll get her away from whatever the hell is going on with it, but the quaking follows her. She huddles up under the concierge desk in the lobby, tucked away from view. The fireplace doesn't do a lot for heat, but it keeps the main floor at a slightly higher temperature than the rest of the hotel (or maybe that's just the placebo effect of hearing it crackling). That's enough for her.

Or she'd like to think. Showing up in a t-shirt just off of a mission in San Juan was really biting her in the ass now: she hadn't packed for just above freezing temperatures. As her shivers worsen, so too does the way her abilities shake the room around her. Ten feet in any direction, a low-scale earthquake sets in. The pen cup rattles. The table lamp pops a bulb and falls over before vibrating off the edge of the desk, dangling by its cord.

And the fact that it moved with her from her bedroom? Well that just makes it harder for her to calm down.

Her shoulders hunch around her ears, and she raises her hands to pull at her hair, muscles tight to conserve both her body heat and her sanity. Something's wrong. Whatever those crystals in the temple did, it followed her here. So her breath is short with muted panic, afraid of herself and unable to get away from it.

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Cissie, like a lot of the others, had moved to the lobby for the warmth. The crowd of bodies and the fire made it slightly warmer than her lonely room, but she still wore almost every article of clothing she'd found in her suitcase and wrapped herself in her blanket.

Running up and down the stairs a few times helps warm her up a bit, so when she finishes a fourth lap and thinks her legs might go out from under her, she makes her way back to the lobby, blankets tight around her. She settles into a chair, ready to huddle in and people watch for a while, when suddenly her chair starts shaking under her. Next to her, she watches the pen cup on the desk rattle, and the lightbulb in the lamp pop just before the lamp goes skittering off the edge of the desk.

...So that's perfect--earthquakes on top of freezing temperatures in a hotel without doors where it never stops raining. Cissie jumps up, looking around and--no one is panicking. It looks like maybe she's the only one who noticed. She would wonder if she imagined it, if it weren't for the lamp.

Cissie goes to pick it up and put it on top of the desk again--which is when she spots something under the desk, some movement that catches her eye. She leans over, and spots Skye, hunched in on herself like a frightened animal.

So maybe she wasn't the only one to feel that. Cissie kneels on the floor next to the desk, careful not to touch her, but close enough.

"...Hey. Are you okay? I mean--are you hurt?"

Movement on the desk above her sparks Skye to attention, eyes darting upward to search the source of the sound. No. No, no, no; it's not safe. She's not safe, not like this. Something is wrong. So when it's a young girl—probably a teenager, there were enough of them around here—leaning over and checking in on her, Skye feels that much more compelled to get her out of there. To protect her.

"Get back!" She shouts readily, pushing herself out from under the desk and back against the wall. The desk itself jostles, rattles, creaks and rocks in place. The tremor travels up the wall, stronger now, rocking a picture frame off the wall and shattering the glass as it hits the ground. "Please. You need to get away from me."

She might not know what's happening, but she is sure that the problem is her.

"Whoa! Okay." Cissie falls back on her heels, holding her hands up in the universal gesture of 'I surrender.' Fortunately (or not) for Skye, Cissie's fairly used to being around people with extraordinary powers that they sometimes can't control or understand. Sure, it's been a while, but she'd been one of only two "normal" kids on their team. It doesn't take too much thinking to realize that the earthquakes had to do with this woman, and in her experience, intense fear was never good for uncontrolled powers.

"It's okay. Being scared--it's just going to make it worse. Take a deep breath. I'm okay, see?" She holds up her hands again, showing her that she's not hurt. "Just--try to calm down a little. It'll help, I promise. My name's Cissie. What's yours?"

God, it had to be the helpful, kind one. Skye squeezes her eyes shut. Of course, the least helpful thing to say to anyone having an anxiety attack about killing everyone in the hotel is 'just calm down,' so it only manages to rattle her further as she frantically tries to quell the tremors. If anything, they grow slightly more severe, maxing out just shy of structural damage—yet strangely, they do not journey beyond the ten-foot radius of where Skye's sitting.

"Cissie, I know you're just trying to help, but that's why you really need to go!" She lets out a shout as she finishes, grimacing as the lights overhead crack and shatter, raining glass down on them both. Doubling over, Skye grinds a frustrated noise out of the back of her throat.

....Well, that worked well. Cissie raises an arm to shield herself as the glass from the lights falls on them, but the more Skye protests, the more sure Cissie is that she shouldn't just leave. She does scoot back away from her a few feet, giving her some space.

"Yeah, sorry, but I'm not really one for running away when someone needs help," she says. "Besides, where am I going to go? No doors, remember? What's your name?"

"I know. I know, I tried to get away." Skye reiterates quickly, hands trembling as she clasps them in front of her, as if the quakes are somehow originating there. It does nothing to smother them, quashing that theory pretty effectively. "I thought it'd be better down here, but it's getting worse." Her name never comes out, too caught up in what's going on. In what's wrong with her. "Go upstairs. Get as far away as you can; I don't know what's gonna happen."

"It's like being in California again."

The Nogitsune had finally come up from the laundry room. Snuggling the dryer had helped for a time, at least until it felt the need to get up and go feed. After securing all its blankets, the creature fastened on the first bit of misery it could and set about finding where it was coming from. With luck, it might consume enough to retreat back to what little warmth it had found quickly.

Like Skye, the Nogitsune wasn't dressed for the cold. Unlike the wolves, the Nogitsune was simply a spirit in a human body and thus limited by that human body in most respects. Stiles hadn't been built for falling temperatures. Come to think of it, Stiles hadn't been built for much but sarcasm.

"That's different," it said to itself. Most of the earthquakes it had experience had been large area. Having one that only ran ten or twelve feet from its epicenter was enough to draw its curiosity. "Now what could be causing that?"

A few breaths were pulled in as if the thing were tasting the air.

By now, she easily recognizes the voice. Two weeks in this place with him being responsible for every roadblock she's hit with trying to figure out what's actually going on, and it makes committing his voice to memory pretty worthwhile. The Nogitsune. That's what Derek had called it.

Chaos, disorder, strife.

Well, she was feeling all of those pretty acutely right now. And she hasn't forgotten what it admitted, either: it feeds on that stuff. She's not sure if it's literal or figurative, but she's not looking forward to finding out. Rather than reveal herself, Skye closes her eyes tightly and takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Closing one hand around her opposite wrist, she squeezes it, thumb pressing into her pulse point, tracking her heart rate in place of the monitor she'd worn for much of her training with May.

Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. And getting faster. Her eyes flash open, increased panic making it even harder to calm herself down. Steeling herself wasn't working, not when the source of the problem was inside of her.

What are you? Bucky asks in her mind, and Skye balks. Searches for an answer. Recalls all of Raina's waxing poetry about her hopes about their change. Their destiny. Well, destiny sucks. The rumbling continues, Skye's pain and doubt a palpable thing.

A tap-tap-tap came from the top of the desk as the Nogitsune strolled in front of it. There was no hurry to the thing, no rush to get anywhere when all it wanted was right here. It could smell it, feel it.

"Let me see. Fear. That's the one that speaks the loudest. The question is fear of what. A few earth-shakers are barely a reason for panic these days among the masses. No, this is about to break free and result in a screaming fit unless I miss my guess. It's wonderful."

The Nogitsune makes a low growling sound under its breath, the same sort a fox might make when worrying meat off a bone. Without warning, it lifts a hand and slams it down on top of the desk as hard as it can. The idea is to startle out whatever it is feeding on, maybe harvest something better such as pain if it exists under that fear.

The slap of his hand causes a short shriek out of Skye, flinching away from the sound out of surprise rather than any genuine fear. Of all the people in this hotel she might injure, she'd probably feel the least guilty about the Nogitsune. Unfortunately, if this gets worse, it's not going to just be the Nogitsune in trouble.

Its words are worse, weaving into the insecure parts of her mind—about to break free and result in a screaming fit. That's her fear: the possibility that whatever's bubbling under the surface, whatever's changed inside of her is going to break free and lash out, hurt someone. Hurt everyone.

"Get away!" She shouts, pulling herself from beneath the desk to glower at him. "You don't know what you're dealing with." Hell, even Skye doesn't know what she's dealing with.

It had thought that was where the scent led. Nice to have confirmation. In the face of her shouting and anger, it leans lazily against the desk. Thin fingers tap on it a few times as the last notes of her voice echo away.

"I'm willing to bet that you don't either if we want to be honest with each other," it says carelessly. "They only know so much about me."

A small shrug, and it slides up onto the desk. There is no fear or worry in its manner, only interest in whatever has her so wound up. It rights the lamp that had fallen over, examining the bulb to see if it can be saved.

"And you, well, you know nothing about me except that I eat negative emotions which you're overflowing with. You can only blame yourself really."

A cheerful smile and it fiddles with the light bulb again.

As it leans in, Skye takes a cautionary step back, prompt and instinctive. Her eyes lock on him, alert and searching for sudden moves, waiting for him to lunge. After all, no one told her how the Nogitsune eats. Fear has the wall at her back shaking with the force of the vibrations her ability creates, even as she reaches out to steady herself on it as the floor rocks beneath them.

Drawing up her blanket as he speaks, she makes a few quick decisions. Self-preservation is strong, but protecting the rest of the hotel from whatever power he'd gain from feeding off of her right now? That's stronger.

It gives her something to focus on, something to hold onto that will carry her forward, so as she bundles up the blanket in her arms, she quickly begins to beeline around the edge of the desk, trying to circle wide around him. She starts out refusing to turn her back to him, but speed is quickly prioritized over watching him, and she turns to break for the stairs.

It doesn't bother to look up to Skye, instead pulling a sliver of glass from where the bulb popped.

"It doesn't matter where you run to, not really. There is only so far you can go. A cage with rooms is still just a big cage."

It draws its legs up, sitting cross-legged on the desk. It has no intention of chasing. Pursuit would gain it little, and while it is insatiable, this hotel is a honeypot of all it needs even if it is freezing.

"The only question I have is if you're doing this shaking or if the hotel is. I ask because I can make someone think a bowl of broken glass is the most delicious candy ever. The hotel has been sure not to give us much in the way of that, and there are some here that would love sweets."

It lifts the piece of glass from the bulb to its eye-level. A turn of the broken shard, and the Nogitsune looks to be holding a bar of chocolate between its fingers instead. It gives her an empty smile.

"So, I have to wonder if it's you or this place."

It lets her flee if she wants. Curiosity will only drive it so far.

Regina's suitcase selections certainly haven't helped her keep warm. She has dresses, for them most part, and a gown from her reign as queen. There are few pant suits, so she's wearing business pants, and her long sleeved pajama top with tights. It's not the most matched she's ever been, but with her own blanket around her shoulders, she's warm enough in he warmer lobby. And then, as she sits lost in her thoughts, she feels it. A shaking, a rumbling, and she frowns. What fresh hell is this going to be?

Standing, she wanders for a moment, trying to get to the source until she hits the concierge desk. Frowning, she stands in front of it, and then the small quake happens again and she makes her way around, only to find someone huddled there. It clicks then, that she's the source, and two things pop into Regina's mind: First, how the hell was she able to do it if there was no magic here, and second: is it magic? What the hell is it? But grilling her won't make it stop, so she kneels down, studying her and not afraid at all. She's been around people with stronger powers, or at least equal.

"If you fear what you're doing and let that consume you, it's not going to get better," she offers.

When Regina appears behind the counter with her, Skye scoots back, burrowing deeper in her blankets to try and recoil from the woman. The last thing she wants is to get her hurt, or worse, and right now, that's the only outcome she can see. The tremors grow worse, enough to throw Regina just slightly off balance but not enough to truly quake the hotel's foundations or damage it structurally.

"I don't know what I'm doing!" She admits, anguished, confused, and scared all at once. Her fear is rooted as much in her uncertainty as it is her compassion for the people she could hurt if she can't rein it in. That empathic worry only makes it harder for her to regain control: if the circumstances allowed it, she wouldn't even be in the hotel anymore, but there's no escaping it. Nowhere to outrun this. "Please, just get back before it gets worse."

"Whatever it is, you don't know how to control it," Regina says as she rocks on her heels and reaches out to hold onto the top of the counter.

"It's definitely you though, and I'm guessing whatever it is, is like magic - it's tied to your emotions." She's not exactly yelling at her, she's not harsh, but this is definitely like trying to coach Emma on her most blonde days.

"So that means you have to calm down. Breathe in and out, deeply, slowly."

Regina has no idea if it's magic or not, or if it's just what this woman is, but it's still power, and she's trying to keep it from getting bigger. Although, if it did, maybe it'd knock down a damn wall and they could leave.

Breathe in and out. Specific instructions help pierce the veil of anxiety, whereas previous urging towards calmness had only ever pushed her in the vague direction of further panic at not being able to bring herself down. Her lips are chapped from the cold, but she draws air purposefully between them, each breath trembling with her continued shivers. Pulling the blanket more tightly around her, she curls her fingers into her hair, holding either side of her head and trying to soothe herself appropriately.

The tremors begin to die down, lessening to a steady hum more than anything else. That final inch won't budge, though—she doesn't know what this is, what's happening, or how she can get rid of it. Doesn't even know what these powers are. She's never been Gifted. If this is a superpower, it means she's like Donnie Gill. It mean she's gone wrong somehow.

Tense as a frightened deer, she slowly shifts her gaze up towards Regina, studying her face. Through the grip of her terror, she admits, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you. You just have...something you never knew you were capable of. When I first figured out I could make fire with my magic I burned down half a section of forest," she admits. "And I'd show you my magic, but it seems like you're the lucky one. If you can figure out how to control this, and the strength, you're an asset. You're the best chance we have to knock down a wall and get the hell out of here."

Regina is not afraid of this woman. On the contrary, if she can help her cultivate this...whatever it is, she's sure as hell going to if it means an escape plan. And, Skye's nice enough. Scared, sarcastic to cope with whatever goes on in her life. Regina gets that, understands it.

She smiles though, still for a moment, because the smaller vibrations are better than what she was doing. "See? You're already controlling it better."

Half a section of forest. Rather than help, it makes her think back to San Juan. And horror rends her expression like the earthquake had rent the earth. A sudden sharp quake rattles the floor below them and ten feet around as it sinks in. At the time, she couldn't imagine it was her. The falling rocks, the panic, the change, Trip—it was all too much. The temple, certainly. The Diviner, probably. But her?

And if it was that bad below ground, then above …

Winded by the realization that she'd caused a natural disaster on that scale, she leans back, covering her mouth with her hands and trying very deliberately to breathe, failing to keep it paced. Oh god. All those people. They were right below the city, the whole time. If she'd caused that earthquake, and people got hurt.

There was no way they didn't. There was no way that kind of quake came without casualties. Her voice is raw, strained, as she croaks, "No." She's not just wrong. She's a monster. Just like her father. That was all he'd ever wanted, wasn't it? To bring her down with him. The lights flicker and she lets out a louder cry, "No!" Hands push back into her hair, pulling at it. This time, the shake seems to pain her somehow, pulling at something anguished and grieving inside of her.

Trip was her fault, but it's worse than that. He's the tip of the iceberg.

This girl is a basket case, something else has happened to her, and it seems no amount of trying to calm her down will actually work. But, Regina's never been one to give up, and she reaches out, hands going to Skye's wrists so she doesn't pull her hair out.

"Look. At. Me," she commands with all of the firmness of a queen, trying to hold Skye's gaze. "What you're in control of is this moment, right now. You can calm down, deep breaths in and out because you just did it. I don't know anything about you beyond you think I'm full of crap about magic and Snow White. I don't need to know anything to know that whatever this is, you don't understand. No one told you, no one has helped you, and the only thing you know is to be afraid."

Regina, when she wants to, can dig into that past of hers, the one where she was a good girl with a kind heart. Now it's slightly tinged with decades of weariness, a bit of blackness, but it's there.

"Maybe I can't help you, but I'm not afraid of you either, and you don't have to be alone. So just look at me."

Tears sting the corners of her eyes as she looks up at Regina on command, stilling as the queen pulls her hands away from her hair. There's very real fear there, simmering just beneath the surface. For once, it's not fear of Regina, though, but fear of herself.

No one will understand. That was how her father had cautioned her, and she was terrified to think he might be right. But Regina does. Somehow, for whatever reason, the Evil Queen is the one who gets it, and that doesn't bode well for whatever has changed inside of her. Shaking her head, Skye mournfully answers, "You should be."

If that was her in San Juan, then they all should be. Because it's going to get a lot worse. But the focus tempers the tremors, a low rumble keyed in with her shivering.

She'd said that to Robin. Those exact words, and for a moment, just a brief one, her face falls. Right then, she decides she's not leaving Skye and winds up sitting beside her, right there behind the counter.

"I'm not a good person. Or at least I thought I wasn't. But two people in my life have refused to give up on me no matter what I do or say, not matter what they find out about me, about who I was." She pauses, because both of those people are gone right now, one for good no matter if she's here or back in Storybrooke.

"I'm not the most qualified to give advice about things like this." Regina knows that. "But I do know a thing or two about having power and not wanting it. Feeling forced to have something you never asked for."

In settling down on the ground beside her, Regina goes against every expectation Skye has. Either she truly has no sense of self preservation, or she's a lot braver than Skye would ever give someone with Evil in their name credit for. Her eyes widen, expression softening to reveal the vulnerability lying deep below her fear.

Decrying her own goodness in the same breath as making the same promise to refuse to give up on Skye only makes the agent want to reach out for her, to reassure her in the same way that she'd reassured Mike Peterson. No, she thinks, you are good. You're here. But when her hand moves to start towards Regina's, she stops herself, afraid of what touching her might do.

Afraid of herself.

So she closes her hand reflexively, just short of contact, and holds Regina's gaze instead. Her lips press tightly together to restrain her emotions: her dread, her pain, her fear. When she finally gets them reined in, she ventures to ask, "What did you do? How did you get rid of it?" Because she doesn't want to keep it, doesn't want to stay like this. She wants to be fixed. To undo what her father had made wrong in her.

She doesn't want to freak Skye out again, and maybe someday they can really talk about the truth of it all. But for now, she just looks at her, giving her a tight lipped smile.

"I didn't get rid of it. But people decided to never give up on me anyway. And when you have that, even if it's just one person, it can be just as powerful."

It had only been Robin before Henry even knew who Regina was again, and he'd never left her side, even in the Enchanted Forest where she thought he was a complete ass. She notices when Skye stops short on touching her, and doesn't push it. Someone with Evil in her name has faced worse than this.

It's not an invigorating review, not exactly, but it's something.

Skye just can't be certain, here and now, that she's got anyone like that. If they knew what she was responsible for, about Trip, and the earthquake in San Juan. That's what her father had tried to put in her head, that they'd turn from her after the change. Well it was one hell of a change.

She scrubs her hands over her face, the low hum of the vibrating desk turning more intermittent with her touch-and-go shivers. "Lucky you," she notes, trying to latch onto the quip to level herself out. Lighten the conversation, take the focus off herself.

"It took a decade or three," she said with a half smile. "And since we're formally meeting face to face, I'm Regina. The not evil anymore queen."

She's not going to have that moniker here, and should someone she loves arrive, they're going to know there's been no trace of that woman she was.

"Skye." She returns, huffing out a breath. It's a deliberate move, trying to calm herself down. Red still rings her eyes, and her ever-wry smile is shaky, but it's progress. A conscious effort. Turning things on Regina is helping, that's for certain. "But … you knew that." Because she announced it on the subnetwork.

Shaking her head, she darts her tongue out and takes a few seconds to lasso in her heart rate, calming herself down. Focusing on what Regina says helps, so she questions her further, "You don't look old enough to be saying that. Is it the magic, the fairytale, or the total bad guy drinking the blood of newborns that did it?" Light humor twists with the words to keep them from reaching the status of a legitimate jab. Once a villain, always the butt of villain jokes, as far as she's concerned. That's the price.

Regina can take it - she already does from Charming nearly every day - and smirks back. "Monthly juice cleanse." She sighs though, leaning her head back against the counter. "The magic. When I cast the curse I did, time was frozen for twenty-eight years. Blood of newborns isn't my thing anyway."

Her tone is joking, but she's a little serious too. The amount of spells that called for newborns was disturbing, and Rumple had often made deals with them. It was one thing she'd never really been into, aside from taking away Snow's happiness.

"Think I preferred the version of that where you said it's not a thing at all," Skye comments with a slight scrunch of her nose. She lets that go, though, and looks up to instead notice that the earthquake has died down entirely. For the first time in—well, in hours—she's remembering what being still feels like. The cold settles back in, but it's preferable to the alternative, which is having no control over herself.

A soft look of relief captures her expression, and she lowers her hands to her lap, exhaling a few uneven breaths. Her eyes shut, and she tilts her head back against the panel of the desk.

Regina looks over at her, taking her in, wondering what happened to her. She figures this isn't exactly magical, a person typically knew when they had power. Unless you're Emma Swan, true love child extraordinaire, but that was a different matter altogether.

Holding out part of her blanket, she speaks softly. "You must be cold. I'm not going anywhere, so here." It's too cold in her room to really want to go back up anyway. And as long as she's here, doing whatever it is she's doing and getting clsoer to Skye, she might as well share the warmth.

For a moment, she's like a frightened bird, ready to recoil from the offer. But the softness of Regina's voice lures her in, and Skye swallows her refusal, pulling her own blanket in and scooting closer. She layers their blankets over one another, huddling close and slipping one arm around Regina's back.

Regina's slightly surprised by the gesture, but instinct kicks in and she realizes this is what she didn't have. When Rumple made her feel out of control, when she was terrified about the power she could wield (for as short a time that lasted), there was never someone to simply care for her. Truthfully, she'd never had anyone other than her father, and there's a gap in her life where he was gone, trapped in Wonderland.

Sometimes, she wonders if someone other than the Dark One had taught her how to use magic and control it, if she'd been taught hope and love and lightness, where she'd be now. It does't help to dwell on it, but maybe she can be that person for Skye, she thinks. So, she holds onto her, huddling up to stay warm.

Peter only intended to move down to the lobby to warm up a little bit. He's thankful that, when he left his home, it was the middle of winter, so he has a few spare jumpers and a jacket handy, at least.

He's not expecting, however, to feel himself begin to shiver. The way his legs shake under him as he descends the steps is strange, at most, and he first blames it on the hotel. It's weird, and those things were bound to happen, but as the tremors seem to grow more prevalent the closer he gets to the lobby? Well. It's evident there's something more to this.

He almost misses the woman at first, curled up under the desk, but the pop of the lamp bulb as it falls draws his attention, peering around to see what is causing the racket. Peter moves nearer, crouching down, and he reaches a hand out to her. They're strangers, but she looks terrified, in pain, maybe? Something unpleasant, and maybe if he can snap her out of it, they can figure out what's going on.

"... Hey, hey are you alright? It's... it'll pass soon, you just... you should calm down."

It's almost like magic, really, when someone is mad enough and glasses shatter, windows and doors slam shut, candles go out. He's seen it a handful of times, wandless magic, and maybe this is the same?

As Peter reaches out, Skye scrambles back, recoiling like a cornered animal and drawing her arms up around her. The surprise of her retreat has the quake jostling the lobby more significantly, taking him just slightly off balance in his crouch. "Get back!" She cries out, more afraid for him than she is for herself. "I'm sorry. I can't make it stop." Distress contorts her expression into something miserable and pained, holding her trembling hands out in front of her like she isn't quite sure who they belong to anymore.

He startles when she cries out, tumbling backward to land on his bum when the floor gives another sickening tremble. So maybe this was some kind of magic, after all.

"H-hey, it's okay, really. You're... you're not gonna hurt me, I promise. I've... I've been through much worse."

Try torturing curses and hexes, no less working with a bunch of power-hungry purebloods. "I promise! Hey, just... just try to calm down maybe?" If there was a swell in the tremors when she panicked? Well, maybe that would help. But maybe she didn't want his help, either. Peter does try, his heart is always in the right place, but he isn't always successful.

"I'm Peter. I mean, I know this is... is scary, but, well. What's your name? Just... just focus on me, maybe?"

For weeks, she'd allowed herself to believe it a coincidence. That it wasn't her causing these things, but rather, that they just happened to occur around her. It wasn't until the heat went and the tremors began to accompany her shaking that it even occurred to her that she was the source. And when she did, it got worse. Much worse.

She's afraid of herself, of what she might do, and that fear keeps her flinching away even as he tries to reassure her. Hands twisted, wringing together in front of her mouth, she lifts her gaze to fix on his like a fearful animal, cornered in a cage.

If she could just get out, she could get away. They'd be safer if she weren't here.

"Skye," she says quickly, trying to get it out between panicked breaths. "I need— I think something happened to me." She says it in a quiet voice, scratchy in the back of her throat. "And I need to figure out how to undo it." Simmons is gone. Fitz isn't Fitz anymore, not like he was. Who's supposed to be able to help her with this? She can't put it on Fitz after what happened. Can't put it on the strangers of this hotel, or trust any of them with it.

Harley had settled into the lobby into her newly erected blanket fort without any care that she'd be taking up space that others might need (or want) to use. At the end of the day, Harley was Harley's first and last concern; particularly as she didn't really know anyone else here at the hotel beyond a shared kidnapping experience.

She's laying in her pile of blankets, taking comfort in the cushions she stole off nearby lobby chairs, when the first of the tremors begin to kick in.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me..." The entire room seems to be rumbling lightly, but it's a bit unlike the average earthquake she's experienced in the past. Rather than a short rumble or roll of the ground under her, the shaking seems to be continuous.

"What the heck?" She crawls out of her fort, reaching back inside to grab the inflatable mallet she'd brought down from her room. No, it wouldn't do much, but it looked real and that was a step in the right direction. Once out of her fort, she pushes up to her feet and is completely and utterly not dressed for any of this (decked out in booty shorts and a crop top). She hoists the mallet onto her shoulder, and it looks to have some weight despite being inflatable. The ground still rumbles under her feet, earning a frown from the petite blond.

It's another thing altogether that grabs her attention, however, and she pauses mid-step and tilts her head. She begins to slowly creep toward the lobby desk, the sound of panicked breathing growing louder and louder as she approaches. Definitely the right direction!!

She isn't going to give Skye any kind of warning, instead hoisting herself up easily on the desk counter and swinging her upper half to hang upside down over the edge of it, feet kicking in the air idly.

"Ahhh... What's up toots?"

Surprise, Skye!!

The suddenness of Harley's appearance takes Skye aback, and she flinches away from the counter slightly, jostling it in extra measure out of sheer surprise. She pushes herself to her feet, pressing into the opposite wall, getting herself defensively on Harley's level when she picks up on the mallet she carries.

"Maybe a little warning next time?" She bristles defensively, scanning Harley quickly like she's assessing a threat. It doesn't do much for the steady tremors rumbling through the hotel lobby, but they don't seem to get worse, at least. It's just like her training with May. Learn to control herself, her heart rate, stay calm. She can do this.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i'm gonna change you like a remix [open]

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/wrap?

sure thing :)

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