Martin K(nife) Blackwood (
curriculum_fictae) wrote2020-06-16 06:15 pm
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[PSL] time travel, time travel
[ Martin had always known that Lukas would kill him in the end. If not along the way, then surely at the end, once he'd gotten what he wanted out of Martin, whatever that turned out to be. When the Lonely rose up to swallow him, he'd accepted his impending death with ... what?
What did he have left, really? Numbness, mostly. A hallucination of Jon in the Lonely, looking for him, but - but that was impossible, ridiculous. His mind playing cruel tricks. He settled himself down in the frigid surf, knees drawn up close to his chest, unshed tears frozen to his cheeks and lashes.
And then. A door. A door that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist. That he shouldn't take at all. The Lonely was terrible, yes, but it was quiet, and it was peaceful. Martin was aligned enough with it by now to very nearly enjoy it, in a strange and terrible way. The Spiral would be infinitely worse than this quiet beach.
But ... it was hope, too. In a strange way. Hope enough that Martin found himself turning the door handle and stepping through, leaving the false comfort of the Lonely behind him.
The transition was unpleasant. Long. But Martin couldn't remember it after; he only remembered stumbling out through the door of a supply closet somewhere deep in the Archives, blinking up at the dim bulbs that pretended to be sufficient. What time was it? Had he escaped? Where were Lukas and Elias now?
And where was Jon? ]
What did he have left, really? Numbness, mostly. A hallucination of Jon in the Lonely, looking for him, but - but that was impossible, ridiculous. His mind playing cruel tricks. He settled himself down in the frigid surf, knees drawn up close to his chest, unshed tears frozen to his cheeks and lashes.
And then. A door. A door that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist. That he shouldn't take at all. The Lonely was terrible, yes, but it was quiet, and it was peaceful. Martin was aligned enough with it by now to very nearly enjoy it, in a strange and terrible way. The Spiral would be infinitely worse than this quiet beach.
But ... it was hope, too. In a strange way. Hope enough that Martin found himself turning the door handle and stepping through, leaving the false comfort of the Lonely behind him.
The transition was unpleasant. Long. But Martin couldn't remember it after; he only remembered stumbling out through the door of a supply closet somewhere deep in the Archives, blinking up at the dim bulbs that pretended to be sufficient. What time was it? Had he escaped? Where were Lukas and Elias now?
And where was Jon? ]
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-- If you'd rather not, that's fine, I just -
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No, it's fine. I just hadn't considered it before.
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[This is fine. It's fine everything's fine, they're fine.]
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All right. That would be lovely, then.
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All right, then. Cooking lesson this weekend.
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Do you want to go back to the board tonight? Fill in a few more things?
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[Martin already gave him so much information that he needs to parse and process. It doesn't feel like the right time to dive into his board.]
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[ That's fine too, and frankly a bit of a relief. Confessing that he'd come from a literal death sentence had been exhausting.
But it did leave a question. ]
What do you want to do instead?
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[There are always books, but that doesn't feel right at the moment either.]
I don't have a television, but I do have my laptop...?
[They could always watch something.]
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Put something on, then? All right.
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[He sounds tired. He's a little concerned for both the Martins in his life now, and what the future brings.
He gets his laptop set up on the coffee table and pulls up some... documentary. Egypt and pyramids and things he already knows and fully expects to be correcting them on from the comfort of his sofa.]
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Without really realising it, his shoulder makes the slightest contact against Jon's. And from that minimal point of contact ... colour blooms, hesitantly. His dismally grey jumper shows a hint of blue spreading from the spot, like a drop of ink on ice.
Martin doesn't notice; he just watches, quiet. ]
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When it's over, he starts carefully picking and cleaning things up from dinner and where they inevitably brought their tea to the couch.]
Martin. Are you sure you're all right, just sleeping on the couch?
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(That's not fair to Jon, he thinks bitterly. He can't project his own feelings onto the Archivist.)
He stands too, after, tending to his own mug. And gives Jon a nervous laugh. ]
Yes? I mean - I could sleep on the floor, I suppose, but the couch is much better.
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He cleans the few dishes they dirtied by hand while he thinks.]
You're not going to sleep on the floor, Martin...
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Right. So the couch is perfectly fine.
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Oh.]
Right. Good. Okay.
[Maybe a fold out bed or one of those inflatable mattresses people use when camping or-]
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You don't have a second bed. And I'm not kicking you out of yours.
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[He really did do this to himself telling Martin to stay with him.]
I just.. .wanted to check since it's been a few days.
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... Are you worried about me?
[ That's so cute. ]
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I-- well. [God.] Yes? I mean, you're here, and you've been giving me warnings and information and. I just. Thought I'd be polite.
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I'm very comfortable here, Jon. Better than I've been in a while.
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[Let him go die in peace.]
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