recolle | ( OPEN ) you believed in all your lies, didn't you

WHO: Malik Ishtar and Others (You!)
WHERE: Around, mostly in Freshens
WHEN: Mid to late April
WHAT: Malik is suffering the effects of the dreaded Magatus Mark
WARNINGS: Malik’s dubious mental health, teen angst, mentions of self injury in first prompt.

Magatus was disorienting in its newness. The blacking out that came after was more familiar to Malik than should be considered normal, but when he awoke and discovered that he hadn’t gone on another attempted murder spree and that things were relatively okay, he had ventured forth with a kinda-familiar person to see about getting rid of the new glowy mark on his skin.

He didn’t find the answer.

So he had left, huffing and pouting as he does, only to find that in the following days in returning to the city, the mark had started to spread. And sting. Like it wanted to remind him that it existed, and about the faint voices from the forest, whispering to him. He handled that the way he handled most other things: by ignoring it and hoping it went away. Like most other things, it didn’t go away, and it got worse.

ONE.
The mark had started on his forearm and had spread down towards his wrist. The glow was obnoxious, but not quite as bad as the sting. Malik had taken to picking at it, scrubbing it, and rubbed the skin red and raw. Still, the mark persisted. Even after wrapping it in bandaging (mostly to keep from ruining himself further), it still glowed.

He felt like people stared at him. Like they knew. Doesn’t matter where he was going or what he was doing, he couldn’t shake the feeling of silent persecution. It was really only a matter of time until he snapped at an unfortunate passerby:

“Stop looking at me!”

TWO.
Things continued to get worse. Malik found himself feeling ill and groggy. As completely wrong, delusional, and irrational he could be, he didn’t actually attribute this directly to the mark. More than he was getting sick in conjunction with being cursed. Being kicked while he was down, because that was definitely par for the course as far as he was concerned.

A simple illness requires a simple fix. Except with how tired and disconnected Malik felt, something as simple as getting cold medicine from the pharmacy inside of Freshens seemed a lot more arduous than it should be.

In fact, he doesn’t even know if he’s in the right aisle. Or the right store. Or the right plane of existence, as he stares blearily at children’s gummy vitamins.

Some of the store patrons plainly ignore him. Some get a bit unnerved. Because he just continues to stand there, unresponsive.

THREE.
The nightmare wasn’t over yet; in fact, you could say it was just beginning. A long, long series of nightmares. Everything Malik has been trying to push away, trying to ignore, hoping that it’ll solve itself and disappear on its own following him all hours of the day, beyond wakefulness and into his dreams. Everytime he drifted off, he had a nightmare. His cold was getting worse. The mark had spread further still. He was at rock bottom again, emotionally, despite making feeble attempts to put himself on the right path. However, he’s too exhausted, mentally and emotionally, to scream and tantrum about how unfair that is. He’s tired, he looks tired, as he zombie shuffles through Freshens, again, to get… something? Maybe? Out of his room, at least, so he doesn’t fall asleep again.

“Stupid… trees, stupid curse, stupid cold, stupid everything.” He repeats, several times as he goes up and down the grocery aisles. “They always want to make it my fault… I didn’t curse myself, it’s their fault.”

He picks a package of cheap, offbrand cookies from a nearby shelf and starts to tamper with the packaging. He’s unaware of anyone watching or scrutinizing his behavior. He keeps going, eating cookies as he does so: “Anytime I do anything, something goes wrong, that’s not my fault.”

In a stunning twist, he seems to recognize that people - at least one person - is watching him. This does not stop his cookie thievery, and instead he glowers, “The hell do you want?”

FOUR.
( choose your own adventure, or I’ll write something for you.)

Threaded | Flat

[ While Minato was in the pharmacy to pick up something prescription, he's also looking to restock his supply of lemon cough drops and allergy medication before spring fully hits, and Malik is sort of in the way. Minato could maybe reach past him, over his shoulder and awkwardly close to his ear and pull something off the shelf without stabbing Malik in the eye with the packaging, but he also feels a bit bad to do that without at least saying hello. ]

...I'd recommend the tablets and not the gummies.

[ or offer unsolicited advice or whatever ]

[Really, Malik couldn't have gotten luckier insofar as witnesses to potential felonies go; Josuke himself has a pack of gum in his back pocket and a tube of mascara in his hand that may or may not join the gum at some point.]

You know, you could at least share. [Casually, he heads over and pretends to examine the nutritional benefits of chocolate chip cookies- then pulls a face.] On second thoughts, I'm on a diet.

[The cookies go right back on the shelf and, this time, he turns to Malik with a more genuine expression.]

... you don't look so great. You okay?

[ oh! while not a fan of being snapped at (who is?), nor did he think he'd been looking much— john's successfully distracted. he stops in his steps, tossing up a hand in greeting.

if he immediately notices anything off, it doesn't show through the easygoing smile. ]

Oh! Malik, been a while. [ ... mm, no, that's relevant. ] Well, just a few weeks, really. How's it goin'?

It was impossible to miss Malik shuffling up and down the aisles like a resentful zombie, looking not only haggard but vaguely magical. (It's hard to tell under the fluorescent lighting, but something definitely appears to be glowing.) Jamie's usual MO is to stay out of people's way, especially people who don't particularly care for him (or for anyone, in Malik's case?), but... Malik looks bad enough off that there may be an ethical obligation to attempt some sort of... something.

He's having a hard time figuring out what to do, though, or how to approach. So it's kind of nice that Malik does it for him. "Umm. Protein bars, I guess. What about you?"

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