(closed) Get down on it;

[questioningmermaids]

Character Name: Holland March
Who: Barbie and Ken
What: March ruminates on the dream, has a talk with the prettiest girl in down and his doppelganger
When: Prelude dream shenanigans
Where: Snowjo Dojo Casa House

Content Warnings: Usual tw for alcoholism for March, everything else TBD


March isn't really thinking of Barbie and Ken when he wakes up, head foggy and fuzzy and not in the usual way. His head is thrumming but it doesn't feel like there's cotton between his ears. He's not hungover. He also remembers what he'd dreamed, which was rare.

He's got red long underwear on like he's from a goddamn cartoon and he's already grabbing a blanket--its so fucking cold here--to make his way down to the kitchen, not bothering to restoke the fire. Instead he's reaching for a mason jar he'd brought in for himself and doesn't bother with grabbing a glass to accompany it. The pine wine is too sweet and gross but at this point he's used to it--if he's lucky he can just pass out and not think about anything. He sits at the kitchen table in the dark, jar in one hand, and after a sigh (and a large portion of the bottle is chugged) he makes to grab a pack of cigarettes from the carton the holiday boar gave him.

"Shit."

This is going to stick in his brain for a while.

Comments

[blondfragility]

Generally, if Ken is feeling spooked or unsettled or like something is creeping up on him the dark, he finds refuge by taking up the unused side of Barbie's bed, letting the warmth of both their blankets soothe them both into sleep. Waking up from this nightmare with a gasp for breath, that's exactly what he plans on doing. Except, he hears movement in the kitchen. At first he thinks it's something to do with the dream, but then he figures it's just March. Or Barbie.

Shrugging on his tie-dye hoodie and his heavy mink coat, Ken grabs an extra blanket (just in case) before making his way down the stairs like a child about to tell their parents he's too scared to sleep.

"Hi Holland."

It lacks some of Ken's usual enthusiasm as he sits at the table, too.

[birkenstock]

Nightmares are beginning to become a regular occurrence in this second life of hers, but in a place like this she figures that maybe it's all a part of the experience.

It's a bad experience, of course, and it usually leaves her jolting herself awake in a gross cold sweat that can't be washed away with a wondrous hot shower and perfectly toasted waffles waiting for her in the kitchen, and the bottom line here is that, yes, this might be a regular occurrence, but that doesn't mean she has to like it. Because oh, she absolutely absolutely doesn't like it.

This nightmare feels different though, in a way she can't find the words to explain, and when she jerks herself awake she half-expects Ken to be next to her like a warm comforting weight. And when he isn't ... well, that's totally fine too. She has the exact appropriate coping mechanism for this kind of creepy, scary situation.

Unlike March and Ken, when she heads into the kitchen some minutes later, it's with purpose. Her glossy blonde hair is perfectly brushed and tied up into a high ponytail, and she's wearing her best warm clothing. Her clothes in this case are her armour.

"Hi Ken! Hi Holland!"

Never mind that her smile is tight when she greets her two roommates and wanders towards the ice-box for something to eat.

[questioningmermaids]

"Hi Ken, hi Barbie." March says it with all of the enthusiasm of a tenured professer forced to lecture first years. It's a call and response at this point. He lights up his cigarette and leans back, watching Barbie shuffle about and sliding the jar of pine wine towards Ken as an offering.

His heard hurts, and it's not because of the alcohol.

"Neither of you can sleep either, huh?"

[blondfragility]

"Hi Barbie."

Barbie looks great. Barbie always looks great, even in this frozen wasteland, even while Ken feels like he's slowly starting to look more like March every day. He can't help but watch her with a dopey sort of look until March interrupts it.

"Oh."

He takes the jar, then a drink, then immediately starts coughing.

"No. I had a really weird dream," he says through tears brought on by almost choking.

ken's disappearance;

[questioningmermaids]

It's not the first time March is at the kitchen table, jar of pine wine out, cigarette between his lips but unlit. It's late and he can't sleep--what is with this place and not letting him sleep? So here he is, voila.

He's surprised to find Barbie there. Again. His wave is small, but still there, not much effort being put into it.

"Hi Barbie." If a deflated balloon had a voice, it'd be March. He kicks the seat across from him out in a surprising display of competence, given his state--an invitation for Barbie to join him. Ken's gone. That's probably what this is.

Poor girl.

"Thirsty?"

[birkenstock]

All things considered, Barbie had been taking Ken's disappearance pretty well. She carried on with her daily tasks, made sure to keep every hour of every day since his disappearance fully packed, and kept her hair and clothing in immaculate shape.

Honestly, every day she looked perfect. No one would ever notice, or think to ask her if anything was wrong.

Well.

Not unless they were paying particular attention to the tightness in her responses, the determination of her smile, or how the side of the bed Ken used to sleep in whenever he had one of his nightmares (or she had hers) was stocked with just a few more pillows, a few more blankets, anyway.

(If that side was chockful of bed items, there would be no reason to think it empty, right?)

It's almost deja vu, the way she and March gather into the kitchen, but instead of moseying around the kitchen, she takes the seat immediately with a slight slump.

"Hi March." She lets out a slight exhale. "Please."

She's too tired to maintain appearances today.

[questioningmermaids]

March's whole body shifts, surprise physically manifesting in looking like he'd just got ice cold water dumped all over him.

This is weird. Barbie is weird. Barbie is always weird, but this--

--this is human.

March taps at the table for a few seconds. "Hang on a sec," he says, and gets up. If he's going to drink with Barbie they're going to drink with glasses, dammit. He pulls one from the cupboard, keeping his voice calm and casual. Barbie probably doesn't want to be overloaded with sympathy and concern, she'll snap right back into her Very Perfect Place to not worry him.

"Been having problems sleeping for very long?" There's a better question. Less direct, he can still get a feel.