[PSL] time travel, time travel
Jun. 16th, 2020 06:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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? ]
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? ]
1/?
Date: 2020-08-08 11:40 pm (UTC)There's the sound of a soft, tired sigh. Jon doesn't say anything for a moment. Papers rustle as he adjusts them on his desk.]
I...Feel it is. In some best interest to make this recording. [No doubt the compulsion in his mind, refusing to let him forget, not allowing him any peace since he's had the ability to return, that he has to make this statement.] It is with... no small amount of reluctance that I do so. But things have started escalating very quickly.
[Another soft exhale.]
Statement of... Jonathan Sims. Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute regarding... [God.] A second attack on the Archives by a paranormal being, and the-- [Something's pulling at him, some words that he's hesitating to say but are being torn out of him.] The events leading up to the attack. Statement recorded direct from subject, 13th October, 2016. [Sigh.] Statement begins.
It's hard to pinpoint when exactly it went wrong.
Not the events that led to it, the attack itself. No, the events leading to it have a clear, precise starting point.
On 2nd October of 2016, I finished taking the statement of Helen Richardson. A real estate agent who had encountered an impossible corridor in a home she was touring. She was... unraveling. Slowly, surely. She seemed to be a little more right with herself after she finished giving her statement. I turned for one moment, and then she was gone. I thought she had left, simple as that. But no... It never is. As simple as that. Another voice pierced through me. A laughter that... made my head ache. A long, thin being with wispy blond-white hair told me he had taken her into his corridors. I demanded he give her back, let her free. He only said no. And then gave me warnings.
Warnings that I was... Being lied to. Of uh, a war going on. I didn't know what any of it meant. To be honest, after everything so far, I still don't fully understand. [His voice goes a bit wistful, almost soft.] It would be... nice to know. To have all the answers.
[A sharp breath. He straightens, and his voice evens again.]
Then he, the being calling itself Michael, took one long, thin, sharp finger and put it through my shoulder. It was... Unlike any pain I had felt. The worms were bad, of course, but this was different. It felt like, for just a brief moment, that your skin, your outline, was. Suddenly offset. Like it's two inches to the left from the rest of your body. And then, just like that, it was over. Michael left. I was- rattled, of course. Trying to find something to press against the wound when I heard something else.
[A slow inhale, then a tired, breathless laugh. There's no mirth in it.]
Always... Always doors, for me. It's funny, now that I think about it. It always is doors.
But that's... when he showed up.
He tumbled out of my office's supply closet. I, of course, I recognized him. Algric, that is. That's.. Not the name he went by at the time, no. He was-- [Another pause, Jon clearly hesitating. A name he tries to say, but can't. Whether that's because he doesn't want to for fear of ruining what they have so far, or because he... named him Algric, it's not possible to tell on the recording.
He sighs.]
It's not entirely important. He's... Algric now. But he was visibly shaken, and... muted. Not - not quiet, no. But like his colors had been slowly drained. I didn't notice it at the time. I was more surprised that he'd come falling out of my office supplies. We had a bit of a.. A tiff, I suppose. He was confused as to how he got here and what was happening, and I was. I was still convinced at that time that someone around me was a murderer that had killed my predecessor, Gertrude Robinson.
I think what got my attention, to really.... Really stop and listen to him was that he sounded like he hadn't seen me for some time. Which, at that moment, felt absurd. He'd just seen me a few hours before. But that was... When I noticed the muted nature of him. We spoke a bit more, trying to clear up the confusion, when he asked me what day it was.
I let him know. Matter of factly, at that, that it was 2nd October of 2016.
He looked... shaken. Convinced this was some kind of otherworldly torture. Because, apparently, he was from two years in the future.
I'm not particularly one for science fiction or the like these days. I wasn't amused by the joke. But he assured me it was the truth. That there was even a statement precedent for such a thing, rattled off a case file number and a general subject of the statement. Watched me as I went to find it and... He was right, of course. Anya Villette, uh, another Hilltop Road incident. Given that he was able to predict the statement's subject and where it was located out of seemingly thousands of disorganized files, and that the alternative was that he'd been waiting in my supply closet for hours for nothing more than a failed prank, I thought there was enough credence to the claim to at least give it proper thought.
And if it were true, he... Likely didn't have anywhere he could stay. He couldn't go home since his current timeline self would be there, and he couldn't use his charge card because his current timeline self would have obviously questioned the charges. So... I let him come to stay with me for the time being.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-08 11:41 pm (UTC)I didn't tell the others about it. Not yet. Given that I had already been spoken to about my personal investigations regarding my assistants, I didn't want to bring any undue suspicion where it needn't be.
It wasn't until the cafe that I started to really... Really wonder if I was losing my mind. He wanted to have something out to eat. He'd been repaying the roof over his head with cooking meals for us. I didn't mind it, of course, but I thought it was something I could do. I met him there, and the waitress easily took both our orders. But when she brought them out, she only... brought mine. I, of course, caught her attention, asked where his order was. And... she couldn't see him. Apparently she hadn't heard him. Claimed that if I wanted to order for my 'imaginary friend', I should have done so.
I was... Frightened. Terribly. I was scared that, for the last week, I had been entertaining my own madness. It lined up in the timeline well enough, seeing as he had appeared just after Michael injured me and left. That he, suddenly, had all the answers to everything I'd been trying to figure out. It was too neat.
I paid for the meal, and walked straight home. I resolved to ask someone whose honesty I trust, more than anything. If he didn't see this man who had been living on my couch for a week, then I knew for a fact I was going mad.
It was with immense trepidation that I approached my assistant, Tim Stoker, the following day. I kept the subject matter vague, but asked if he would visit my flat after work to confirm something for me. I could tell he was... agitated, is possibly the nicest description, and a little creeped out considering how I'd been the last few weeks, but agreed. That evening, Tim came by my flat and... Met Algric.
I admit, it was a relief. It took several minutes for Tim to see him clearly. But once he did, it was clear that I was not losing my mind. We spoke a bit more, Algric once again let us know that Sasha... isn't Sasha. It.. hurt to know, with some certainty now, that it wasn't a lie, or some trick. That the Sasha who had been my assistant for two years was... dead. And replaced by a monster.
Tim called my other assistant, Martin Blackwood. Told him not to go into work the next day, that he needed to let him know some things going on. Unfortunately, Martin doesn't... do well with uncertain things and vaguities. Where the conversation was being planned for the next day, instead Martin showed up at my door an hour later. We went over the explanations again, had some... rather nasty conversation topics, but... Ultimately we all. Were in agreement. This was real.
[He hesitates. Sighs into the recorder, takes a sip of his tea. His throat is... unbearably rough. Like the words are just literally being pulled through sand out of him.]
The plan was. Tim and I would come into work, and Martin would call out. It wasn't hard for him to pretend, I imagine. He looked ill when he and Tim left. Whoever could distract Sasha would, while the other looked around her office to find some recorded tapes that were missing. See, all of us during the Prentiss attacks had a recorder. And the only ones missing were Sasha's, somehow. Sasha ended up to my office to bring me some follow up paperwork on a statement.
I spoke with her a bit more. I didn't know who was still in the Archives since it was later in the afternoon. I didn't know where Tim was, or if he'd been keeping an eye out and sneaked into Sasha's office. But I asked her again. What had happened during the Prentiss attack. The CO2 at the time had muddled my memory, of course. Sasha obliged, politely went through the events one more time. There wasn't anything else to... really talk about. I mean, Tim and I were in the process of confirming if she was really a monster or not, and if she wasn't then she was our coworker who had... been slowly cutting us out and dating her new boyfriend. So... Either way, I didn't... feel like it was right to keep her in my office any longer.
She turned to leave, and it was... It was the strangest thing. She just... Stopped. Her hand on the door, and Sasha merely... stopped. And said "Oh". Like, something had just occurred to her.
Now that I think about it, I ... guess that's when everything went belly up.
She turned to look at me and I-- [A haggard, broken breath. It still gets confusing to think about. It still hurts to picture.] It's. Hard to put into words. I know. I know the Sasha that was looking at me wasn't always the Sasha we had known. But at the same time, the... The memories, in the break room, in the Archive, of her with us... She did... always look like that. Her jaw did always hang that low to the floor. Her leg did... always turn inward and drag. Her arms had always been that long, and her fingers had always ended in long, sharp claws. I-i know. I know if I had spent the last few months working alongside a monster that obvious and open, but you have to understand, my memories are... They aren't... [He trails off. Jon sounds like he's in a pain of some sort, breathing in heavy through his nose and out shakily through his mouth.]
She. Asked if I could see her. I... I admit, I panicked. It was... somehow worse than when Jane Prentiss was here. At least then, the others were there. I was... alone with her this time. And the only thing she saw.
She asked again if I could see her. I backed away. I felt a slow rising terror in me that I could not put into words at that moment. But I think she could sense it. She lunged at me and I managed to duck around and run out my office door. I ran through the Archive's aisles, hoping to lose her. The was... Very suddenly a pain, in my back. A burning I had never felt before. IT was unbearable. It seared white hot into the back of my shoulder blade, and seemed to simply blend together with the feeling of sharp knives tearing through the skin at the same time. I screamed. My throat burned with it, with the pain I could not pinpoint as it seemed to be my entire back.
I felt cornered. And saw... Some of the CO2 canisters. Maintenance hadn't come to collect them. I grabbed one and used it at her. It stalled her, just a moment long enough for me to get around her in a different direction. The CO2 sputtered as the canister emptied and I grabbed another, firring at her just enough to make sure I could get out of the files. By then, I started shouting. If anyone was still in the Archive, they had to get out. And... More importantly, if Tim was still in the Archives, he needed to know to run.
I intermittently fired the CO2 behind me, to keep stalling her. But I was getting tired. The canisters are heavy, and I was... Losing quite a lot of blood. And the pain was getting to my head, as was the CO2. Again. Tim stepped out of Sasha's office in time to see the commotion. He realized what was happening and turn to run ahead of me. Up the stairs to the door to the rest of the Institute. I... regret my lack of stamina. I wasn't quite able to keep up the speed I needed, and the canister was getting empty again. I was getting sluggish and struggling. Tim saw and came back down the stairs to help me.
What was... Possibly the strangest thing for me was at that moment... I can't explain it, but I knew we had to duck down low. That she was about to lunge at us both. With what little strength I had left, I shouted at Tim to get down, and threw my weight at him. I would guess it's safe to say whatever attack she had planned to kill us hit the bottoms of my feet instead. I lost sight of it then. There was a loud sort of crash above us. Tim went to secure the door at the landing, then... came back down to help me.
3/3
Date: 2020-08-08 11:41 pm (UTC)[He lets out another breath. Like he'd been holding onto it this entire recording. His voice sounds... tired. Exhausted, like he just woke up in the hospital all over again.]
He started to help me to the break room, but I.. couldn't walk. So he carried me. He helped patch up my back and feet, I took care of his arm. And then... It was weird again, but I just... felt that she was gone. Not like, ran and hid, but was.... Simply gone. For good. I don't know what happened. But. Tim carried me out. Called an ambulance and... I don't remember... anything after that. Not until I woke up in the hospital.
Statement ends.
It's, um. I won't say it... isn't a sort of relief to have it all out. I don't know what to do with some of this information. The confirmation that there are other monstrous entities. And that one had infiltrated the institute so perfectly for so many months. It worries me. I think Elias' visit worries me more. That he ...Looked at me a certain way. And told me to 'not forget' to make this statement. And I...couldn't. For the life of me, I've forgotten any number of things from this whole mess, but that one thing, that one idea would not. Leave my mind. Until I did this once I came back.
[A pause. Like he's thinking, ruminating over something.]
I suppose it makes sense. The Institute, the Eye is... always watching. And Elias Bouchard is at the center of it. I wonder why he killed Gertrude. That one I haven't figured out yet. I... suppose I could always just go ask Jonah. [The way he says the name... says that he knows.]
Hm.
End recording.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 12:33 am (UTC)Well. I think that was... illuminating.
[Elias leans back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other, flush with this new meal. The agony within it and the fear that came from the... extraction. The helplessness and horror that laced every word that had to follow the next. Every betrayal that his voice gave life to was sweetened by the knowledge he was delivering the daggers into the man he didn't even hate.
Not fully.
Not yet.
Ah, but there is the question of what to do. The story would be unbelievable had he any less certainty in the truth of this sort of statement. It was from the Archivist's mouth himself. It could be nothing but what he believed it was.
Complications and more complications, but such brilliant promise chipped away when he was certain there was only slate beneath the surface. The knowledge, the potential, glimmered alluringly.
He looks across at his guest, with whom he hadn't broken eye contact with. He imagines, quite pleasantly, that if he could see the other man's fingers the knuckles would be white.]
Care to give a supplemental statement? [Elias' tone is at the polite end of cheery, knowing that his 'have a seat' still had firm claws in Algric's mind.] Oh, for completion's sake.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 12:40 am (UTC)So that's it, then. He can hear the sounds of brutal pipe murder already; that's what had happened when Leitner had said too much, after all. How much worse will his fate be? And how much worse will this timeline turn out as a result? He's already gotten Tim and Jon horrifically mauled by Not-Sasha.
(His knuckles would, indeed, be white - if his hands were visible at all right now.) ]
I - I would care very much. Yes.
[ Said through gritted, miserable teeth, even as Elias's compulsion keeps him staked to the chair. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 01:25 pm (UTC)[He answers, as if that was voluntary assent. The clock in the office slices through the seconds one soft, inexorable tick after another as he simply... delights at the options he has available to him.
Where to begin? Ah, yes. Where it will hurt the most.
He ejects the tape and sets another one in. After all, his Archivist will certainly want to hear this eventually.
When he's ready.]
Tell me a little about Jonathan Sims, would you? Feelings, impressions. How is he coming along?
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 01:30 pm (UTC)He's ... I ... love him. I'm in love with him.
[ A shudder. ]
He's also an idiot who thinks protecting us means keeping us in the dark and isolating us from risk, when he's the one who - who -
[ He grits his teeth hard. ]
He's already - already too far along. He's Known things he shouldn't have.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 01:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 01:55 pm (UTC)If - if I walk out of here, it will almost certainly be with. With one of your compulsions my head. So honestly? Not walking out of here is fine by me.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 01:57 pm (UTC)Mmm. Maybe. I really wont rule it out.
But why don't we consider everything in a civilized fashion, monster to monster.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 02:38 pm (UTC)It's not civilised if I'm you prisoner. Monster or not.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 02:50 pm (UTC)[He says, as if there are any other options. As if Algric is being small and childish for standing on the point.]
Mind if I ask one last question? [There's a pause in which if Algric tries to talk, he'll choke on his tongue.] Of course you don't. Good lad.
Do you actually know what I'm aiming for? Oh, with all of that extra time and advantages? Did you use it wisely?
[And what was catching his tongue now drags at it.]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 03:07 pm (UTC)Yes. Yes, I do know. You - you had a wager with Peter Lukas. Involving me. He was going to install me in the Panopticon. And have me kill you.
[ Does he really have to answer those other questions? Apparently so. ]
I - I don't know if I've had a good impact on this timeline. If. If anything, I think I'm making it worse.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 03:13 pm (UTC)Though Elias' brow ticks upwards at the wager he certainly hadn't made yet. He sets that aside to quietly turn over endlessly later.]
You certainly did. You know? I rather think it was almost content here. As much as a thing like that can be.
I really thought I was going to put out new adverts. It would have been deeply inconvenient after all of that work.
[He leans back, absorbed in his thoughts and ... Algric can feel the stare slide away, and with it, the iron of those mental bonds become brittle.]
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 03:17 pm (UTC)Slowly, invisibly, he pours the fog of the Lonely into the bonds, like ice forming in metal cracks. Maintaining the weakness, chipping away at it slowly. He needs to wait for the right moment. ]
I - I know how things go from here. With you being "content." And maybe this is worse, but at least it's different. Maybe Tim and Jon won't die this time.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 03:27 pm (UTC)(There's no surety here, though. No absolutes in this hallowed ground of fear and paranoia. Something whispers that maybe, just maybe, he's waiting to see what you do.)]
Very well. Never let it be said that I don't hold to my open door policy.
What do you propose?
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 03:47 pm (UTC)(If he really has it - if Elias isn't just toying with him. God damn it.)
What ... can he even propose? Can he hope to bribe Elias with information? Not really. The man can have any answer he wants, presuming he asks the right questions. Which is one potential hole, but not a large one.
No. The question is what he wants, isn't it. He has to buy time for Jon, Tim and Martin. That's it. That's all. ]
I - I want to keep them safe. All of them. Jon especially, but - but Tim and Martin too. Given you've already murdered Sasha.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 04:20 pm (UTC)Pests, honestly, though formidable ones.
[Elias folds one hand gracefully over another. His stare is anything but pleasant.]
You know? I do think I might have use for you. How about it? Do a little work for me, nothing too demanding, mind. I will ensure that if there's another ... ah... encroachment into these hallowed halls, it will be dealt with promptly.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 04:23 pm (UTC)[ So yeah, he blames you. Bastard.
He shivers a little under that stare, giving the offer serious thought. Would that be enough? Another encroachment would be bad, but ... No. No, that's not nearly enough. He feels those bonds again and decides to say something really, really stupid. ]
You're the most dangerous thing in this Archive, Jonah Magnus. So - so let me make you a different offer, yeah? Let Jon and them quit the Archives, and I won't tell them how to kill you.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 04:34 pm (UTC)Ah. Well, this does change things, doesn't it?
[He leans forward over the desk, just a little, and Algric's world narrows.]
You have a little bite in you. I find that ... intriguing.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 04:36 pm (UTC)What does it change, exactly.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 04:52 pm (UTC)[He leans back into his chair, eyes closed and breathing in a soft, quiet breath.]
It has.. been a very long time though. This sickening terror... knowing that someone who absolutely should not knows.
Haa, it's almost fresh and novel.
[The smile on his face is almost blissful.]
Lets lay out the truths. Your bluff is pointless.
Tell them. I'll give you my favorite knife. Drive it into my heart and with my last light of life, I will watch each one of them die in absolute, writhing agony. And you, with nothing left but your loved one's blood on your hands, slide away into absolutely nothing worth noting at all.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 05:03 pm (UTC)And the bonds are still cracked, even if he doesn't know what to do with it. Even as he knows that - well, yes, that sure was a bluff. If he thought he could murder Jonah Magnus without Jon (and company) suffering for it, then he'd have done it already. It would have been his first god damn stop on this stupid journey.
He breathes in miserably; the sound is nearly a sob. ]
What - what else do you propose.
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 05:12 pm (UTC)I hold the one thing that you want. Their release. I am willing to bet you'd do a whole lot of nasty things to get it, wouldn't you, Algric?
no subject
Date: 2020-08-09 05:14 pm (UTC)Yes. Yes, I would.
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From: