[PSL] time travel, time travel

[curriculum_fictae]

[ 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? ]

Comments

[eyediot]

[He sort of sees the order, how it's all meant to work in practice. But his head is pounding so it's hard to really put conscious two-and-two together.]

Mm. Guess he really only had downhill to go at that point.

[kayakking]

Complements? From Jonathan Sims! Be still my heart.

Keep it up and I'll feed you all the time.

[He laughs and sets his own down across and flips off the range.]

I'd offer my classic berries but let me tell you how much my head is not in a place to whip cream this morning. Plain it is.

[eyediot]

Don't push it.

[He does start to cut into his pancakes.]

I, um. Thank you. [Munch munch.]

[kayakking]

[He settles, taking a few bites of his own before responding.]

Think nothing of it. Nice to have something a bit mundane, anyway.

[eyediot]

[HE thinks on that while he chews his over.]

Yes... Yes, it is.

[kayakking]

[For a little bit, that is what it is. Just the sounds of breakfast, the clatter of plates, the clink of a glass lifted or set, the scrape of a chair and creak of reshifting. Just the pleasant, warm noises of company.

It's almost a shame to break into it, really, when he does. But it's worth doing.]

Feeling any better?

[eyediot]

[It's nice. Just... eating with good company and not being expected anything.]

I-- Yes. A bit.

[kayakking]

Good. Just... keep your head and be honest. It'll work out.

[He says with the misleading confidence of someone who can actually communicate emotions WITHOUT being pissed and pissed off into it.]

[eyediot]

... You know he's going to freak out, right.

[kayakking]

Absolutely implode. The man's going to go supercritical and hit the stratosphere.

At the same time.

[He says between bites, gesturing with a syrupy bit of pancake.]

Really, the only thing I regret is I'm not going to be there the way it would if you'd stumbled over it in the office.

[eyediot]

It-- it's not some kind of daily show for you to watch and speculate on!

[THESE ARE YOUR REAL WORLD PEERS, TIM.]

[kayakking]

It's not! It's not. But you have no idea the level of lovestruck smoop in your wake, man.

He deserves, at least, a 'hey, I acknowledge you and care enough to talk about it.'

[Munchmunch.]

Between the three of you, I'm sure you can navigate the rest, wherever it ends up.

[He is SO incorrect.]

[eyediot]

[He's distracted for just a brief moment by the thought of Why is everyone so much better at cooking than me? while he eats another bite before he zeroes back into the conversation.]

I'm glad you have that confidence. I'm not sure I do.

[But it doesn't mean he's not going to try.]

You realize by doing this, it means you're the on-call every time any of us have an emotional crisis. Are you sure you want that?

[kayakking]

Yeeep. I mean, jocularity aside, I don't actually want you to figuratively set yourself on fire. I actually don't mind.



Though, I wont turn down the occasional donation of alcohol to the collection though.

[eyediot]

I'm sure.

[Nevermind that Jon actually has some taste better than others. And a little better pay to enjoy it at times.]

I'll... Keep it in mind.