It feels like the sort of putty that one might use as a stress reliever, as she manipulates it in her hands. She can keep it, he figures, they just need to find a container for it.
"Huh... Okay, so I guess we should probably test it. That was a Gesture," he explains. When we learn new ones at home, usually it's through TV signals. That thing was sent to me from Sundries and I figured, if it's a Gesture, I already have everything I need, so why not see if someone else would be able to use it. And there's nobody I'd want to have it more than you." He wants her to be safe, and give her more ways to do that for herself, and this certainly falls in line with that. "That should be Foam Armor. Which is...actually really strong. It's for when you or others get hurt. It stops burning, fixes leaking, gives you a layer of protection so you can tank an extra hit. I never got the hang of it, it was more Dedusmuln's thing."
She absently manipulates the putty as she listens to him, eyes wider in surprise to realize what just happened. But she's also deeply touched, her expression says, that he'd hand her something that precious - when he could still probably use it instead. What if he does? If something happens?
Then, she guesses, that means she has to be there as well, to make sure it gets used.
"Wayne, I...words feel insufficient."
To grant her any power at all, to grant her this, something that heals and protects instead of harms, as if it somehow was going to end up in her hands by fate. Something to give her and others more shots at surviving.
Wayne reaches across the table, carefully wrapping his hands around the backs of hers.
"You're one of the best friends I've ever had," he says quietly, eyes down on their hands and giving hers a gentle squeeze. "I know I'm probably never gonna be able to convince you to stay out of harm's way, but...I can make it so you're harder to kill. Whatever comes next, I know you'll give it a good run for its money."
For a moment, her throat feels tight, and she swallows past it, choosing instead to squeeze his hands back. If she could stay out of the way, if there was a path that didn't require blood to keep the engine running, she'd like it. She'd like very much to not have to be hurt in order to keep her existence. But that day isn't here yet. And to make sure Wayne never is forced to, she'll go gladly and by choice.
"I'll hold out as long as I can. I promise you."
Whatever it is. She'll fight for every second - just like she used to. No matter the dignity she loses in the process. She won't make it easy.
Wayne is accustomed to violence, but then, they both are. There's no point in pretending that it's not true, as much as they both wish they could leave it behind. The best they can do in the here and now is take care of one another. He's not good at it, but he can certainly try, and to him, that means giving her whatever tools he can, be it an outlet or the ability to patch herself up on the fly.
"Help whoever you can. Live as long as you can. I'll be there in the morning for coffee, alright?"
"Actually...Max is supposed to be in my cabin in the morning. If you want, he can leave the door unlocked, so you can come and see me as early as you like. Then you'll be able to see I'm safe and sound."
And from her expression, her tone, she wants him to. Of course, she doesn't mind running through the halls looking for him, to show that she's awake and intact, but being able to talk with him even before then? It'd be reassuring for her as much as it would be for him.
She's learned him and the way he works pretty damned well by now. She knows what to say to make him feel a little bit more stable, and give him something outside of himself to focus on. She knows he's trying not to turn back in on himself and allowing him to do this for her would surely help them both.
At least, that's what he hopes.
"Maybe in the morning, we can all have something good for breakfast together then," he suggests. He likes Max after all, he wouldn't hesitate to spend at least part of the morning with the man. Besides, they already planned to make the rounds and make sure others were going to be okay, dispensing sweets where necessary.
"I asked for berry crepes, with fruit on the side. If that sounds good, we can both have some - it can't be hard to make it for two instead of one."
It also helps her mean what she said, about relying on each other. Saying in so many words, I need you there when it will be difficult. Allowing him to be there, the way he wants to be, and entrusting him with herself in a moment like this. Promising that even if he'll worry, she'll take care of herself, as long as it's allowed. It's a steady building up, piece by piece.
"Oh, he's made crepes for me before, that sounds awesome." He'd been informed that you could put all kinds of things in them even, so maybe they can scrounge up some chocolate too. They could indulge when everyone gets back.
On that thought, he finally releases Helena's hands again, picking up his cup that's no longer steaming. He's got an eye on that putty, wondering if it's going to do anything, or if it's just inert goo now. It's not the same kind of goo that he can incorporate into himself...
He reaches and pokes it a little bit. "What do we do with this stuff? You wanna keep it?"
"It looks totally inert now so I don't think it's gonna do anything. Does it feel weird?" Comparatively, anyway. He's learning that some humans think gooey things in general are pretty weird.
At least she seems to be enjoying herself with it. Maybe even if it does feel funky, it's not in a bad way.
"Nah, it's yours. I gave the whole thing to you. Besides, I'm plenty squishy all on my own right?" Not that he's particularly soft right now, at least. Actually, being able to hand her this tool to help her live a little longer feels like he's managed to do something right, and good.
"Yes, but I'd like not to squish you if at all possible. I couldn't put you back together right if I did." Sure, he has bones, but the less soft Wayne is, the better. But she laughs, bright, and puts all that out of her mind.
"Not a big enough mold," he adds with an audible smile.
The question gets a thoughtful sound, and he looks down at his hands. How do you explain something that's innate to how you function?
"Uh...you just...hm." He thinks back on his attempts to develop different Illusion varieties. Then on the newer forms of his old Gestures developed by others around him. "It's about intent, usually. So...that, you have to really want to heal someone or like, fix what's happening to them. That's the most important step right there. You push that want, and let your hands move with it naturally. What do you think would be a good I'm trying to fix you move?" As he says it, Wayne shifts, briefly moving away from the table to go and find some silverware. Practical demonstrations tended to get better results, after all.
What really comes to mind is helping to patch up other survivors in the middle of a match, rough bandages and soothing words and anything to make sure they could keep going, endure more pain to carry on. The crossing over, the tightening, securing things in place. Absently, her finger traces out a figure eight on the table, trying to let any instincts speak if they would.
As Helena is figuring out how her gesture might look as opposed to the device that Dedusmuln would have conjured up, Wayne sits, a fork in hand. He looks down at the back of his hand, then at her, then very quickly stabs the tines into the yellow flesh. It's a pretty minor wound all things considered. He only needs to be bleeding, after all.
"Here, a practical demo," he offers, holding his hand out across the table as the haemolymph wells. "It's not big, don't worry too much about getting it perfect, I've still got hotdogs for days."
It's obvious what he did, even if she can't see it, and she frowns deeply. If she can't get the hang of this, there's always the infirmary, but couldn't she have tried this without him hurting himself for it? Even if it's small, he's still her friend. Still someone she doesn't want to see hurt.
It's a want to stop his hurt, something that touches the back of her head, where that tingling feeling is, makes it come back in her. Maybe she should raise her hand up? Maybe it could...
The motion comes almost without thinking about it. Down left, figure eight, pull back. And there's a sound, a fsssss like from an aerosol can, and then the settling of the Foam Armor on the skin. no more pain. sealing his wound, leaving the sensations of something soft, lightweight, slowly drying - the armor hardening for him. A faint sheen over the wound that's going to dwindle to matte.
If he'd warned her she might have tried to stop him! Logical, really. Her reaction is precisely what he was hoping for though, and in moments the pain is soothed over. It's not the most elegant, but it's doing exactly what it was meant to, and letting him heal up under the protective layer. It would be tacky for a bit, but otherwise, he's satisfied.
He can't help but smile back. It's a relief to know that it works, and more than that, that she's happy to have the new ability available to her.
"You heard that sound, right? That was the foam being produced. Here, check it out." He holds the hand out in front of her so that she can touch the drying armor layer. "This is the protective layer that it produces. It's requires more energy to use so you gotta be careful about it and there's no Converter Worm here to help with that."
"A nap, some food, or I have-" He pulls up a Juicebox, letting it float out of his hand and scrunch down, restoring her energy on the spot. "I know I won't always be right there to top you up, but it's something at least. My suggestion's to see if there's juice or something you can take with you."
She nods, and stands up. "I know they have some behind the counter here, Ava showed me once..."
Going into the small refrigerator, she finds the bottle by opening the cap and sniffing, one sized for a single person's serving, and brings it back to the table. Apple, says the label.
Wayne cranes to look at it, making a small sound and nodding in his approval. He's grabbed other kinds of juice here and there just to see what might work when he needed to Deploy it, and had found that as long as it adheres to generally the same volume and composition, it works well enough as a Juice Box. Maybe the next time he would get one, it would allow someone to Deploy things the same way that he does. He'd probably have to show her how that worked too, but she got this quickly enough that he doesn't doubt she'd be able to do that too.
"Eh...good point, they might not, if it goes the same way as last time... I don't know how to determine how much capacity you have without repeatedly testing it, though. I usually have a pretty good handle on how much energy I have left, but I've been doing this for a long time now."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"Huh... Okay, so I guess we should probably test it. That was a Gesture," he explains. When we learn new ones at home, usually it's through TV signals. That thing was sent to me from Sundries and I figured, if it's a Gesture, I already have everything I need, so why not see if someone else would be able to use it. And there's nobody I'd want to have it more than you." He wants her to be safe, and give her more ways to do that for herself, and this certainly falls in line with that. "That should be Foam Armor. Which is...actually really strong. It's for when you or others get hurt. It stops burning, fixes leaking, gives you a layer of protection so you can tank an extra hit. I never got the hang of it, it was more Dedusmuln's thing."
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Then, she guesses, that means she has to be there as well, to make sure it gets used.
"Wayne, I...words feel insufficient."
To grant her any power at all, to grant her this, something that heals and protects instead of harms, as if it somehow was going to end up in her hands by fate. Something to give her and others more shots at surviving.
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"You're one of the best friends I've ever had," he says quietly, eyes down on their hands and giving hers a gentle squeeze. "I know I'm probably never gonna be able to convince you to stay out of harm's way, but...I can make it so you're harder to kill. Whatever comes next, I know you'll give it a good run for its money."
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"I'll hold out as long as I can. I promise you."
Whatever it is. She'll fight for every second - just like she used to. No matter the dignity she loses in the process. She won't make it easy.
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"Help whoever you can. Live as long as you can. I'll be there in the morning for coffee, alright?"
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And from her expression, her tone, she wants him to. Of course, she doesn't mind running through the halls looking for him, to show that she's awake and intact, but being able to talk with him even before then? It'd be reassuring for her as much as it would be for him.
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At least, that's what he hopes.
"Maybe in the morning, we can all have something good for breakfast together then," he suggests. He likes Max after all, he wouldn't hesitate to spend at least part of the morning with the man. Besides, they already planned to make the rounds and make sure others were going to be okay, dispensing sweets where necessary.
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It also helps her mean what she said, about relying on each other. Saying in so many words, I need you there when it will be difficult. Allowing him to be there, the way he wants to be, and entrusting him with herself in a moment like this. Promising that even if he'll worry, she'll take care of herself, as long as it's allowed. It's a steady building up, piece by piece.
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On that thought, he finally releases Helena's hands again, picking up his cup that's no longer steaming. He's got an eye on that putty, wondering if it's going to do anything, or if it's just inert goo now. It's not the same kind of goo that he can incorporate into himself...
He reaches and pokes it a little bit. "What do we do with this stuff? You wanna keep it?"
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She squishes it again in her hands, rolling it into a ball.
"As long as you think it won't do something like take this Gesture away, then why not keep it?"
Local young woman discovers the joy of fidget toys.
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At least she seems to be enjoying herself with it. Maybe even if it does feel funky, it's not in a bad way.
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It was his present, after all.
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"How do I make the Gesture work?"
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The question gets a thoughtful sound, and he looks down at his hands. How do you explain something that's innate to how you function?
"Uh...you just...hm." He thinks back on his attempts to develop different Illusion varieties. Then on the newer forms of his old Gestures developed by others around him. "It's about intent, usually. So...that, you have to really want to heal someone or like, fix what's happening to them. That's the most important step right there. You push that want, and let your hands move with it naturally. What do you think would be a good I'm trying to fix you move?" As he says it, Wayne shifts, briefly moving away from the table to go and find some silverware. Practical demonstrations tended to get better results, after all.
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What really comes to mind is helping to patch up other survivors in the middle of a match, rough bandages and soothing words and anything to make sure they could keep going, endure more pain to carry on. The crossing over, the tightening, securing things in place. Absently, her finger traces out a figure eight on the table, trying to let any instincts speak if they would.
cw: self-harm
"Here, a practical demo," he offers, holding his hand out across the table as the haemolymph wells. "It's not big, don't worry too much about getting it perfect, I've still got hotdogs for days."
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It's obvious what he did, even if she can't see it, and she frowns deeply. If she can't get the hang of this, there's always the infirmary, but couldn't she have tried this without him hurting himself for it? Even if it's small, he's still her friend. Still someone she doesn't want to see hurt.
It's a want to stop his hurt, something that touches the back of her head, where that tingling feeling is, makes it come back in her. Maybe she should raise her hand up? Maybe it could...
The motion comes almost without thinking about it. Down left, figure eight, pull back. And there's a sound, a fsssss like from an aerosol can, and then the settling of the Foam Armor on the skin. no more pain. sealing his wound, leaving the sensations of something soft, lightweight, slowly drying - the armor hardening for him. A faint sheen over the wound that's going to dwindle to matte.
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"Hey, you're a natural."
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She instantly shifts from worried for him to delighted, stretching her hand out and then pulling it back, practically sparkling in her delight.
"I can heal. I can help people like this!"
It's enough to make her laugh for sheer joy.
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"You heard that sound, right? That was the foam being produced. Here, check it out." He holds the hand out in front of her so that she can touch the drying armor layer. "This is the protective layer that it produces. It's requires more energy to use so you gotta be careful about it and there's no Converter Worm here to help with that."
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"I see...I'll probably have to nap or something to get my energy back afterwards. I assume if there's not enough, it just...won't work."
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Going into the small refrigerator, she finds the bottle by opening the cap and sniffing, one sized for a single person's serving, and brings it back to the table. Apple, says the label.
"I hope they'll let me take my bag."
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"Eh...good point, they might not, if it goes the same way as last time... I don't know how to determine how much capacity you have without repeatedly testing it, though. I usually have a pretty good handle on how much energy I have left, but I've been doing this for a long time now."
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