[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

[secreteary]

[there's a murmured "I'm sorry" yet again, before a small lapse into silence as Martin helps Jon takes his shoes off and examines Jon's feet.]

Still not great.

[a sigh. Martin is returning to normal enough that the urge to fuss is returning in force, but...Jon is in his lap, and that's wonderful for many reasons.

still...]

As much as I like this setup, I need to get some things for this. [read: this is nice but please get off so I can fuss]

[eyediot]

Um.

[Hm.]

R-right.

[He shifts so he's off Martin's lap and sitting. Back in the water. Where he started. And will instead focus on rolling up his pant legs a few rolls.

Somehow he keeps ending up sitting in water and waiting. Of course now the chill in the flat is starting to get to him.]

[secreteary]

[Martin huffs a laugh and gets up.]

You could've sat on my bed instead of in the water, you know.

[he then heads to the bathroom. pointedly avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, he takes his glasses off to splash some cold water on his face to help with the post-crying puffiness. after, it's just a matter of getting the first aid kit from his medicine cabinet and heading back to the bedroom.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric has headed back by then, and arrives at nearly the same time. He holds out a glass of water to Jon along with the bottle. ]

If he sits on your bed, he’ll get it wet. Tim’s getting towels anyway.

[ The glass is frosty, but the water in it is mostly just pleasantly chilly. ]

[kayakking]

Speaking of, [From the doorway, Tim's voice pipes up.]

The hero arrives! [An armload of towels from the hallway (most of the time really was just getting them arranged with an arm really starting to pang.) He's hanging back in the doorframe, rather than the small crowd of fuss.]

Here. I'm going to also suggest a change of locale. The rest of the apartment's positively toasty.

[eyediot]

Oh- Good. Let's go.

[He'll take it! It only takes a little energy and struggling for Jon to get back onto his feet, ignoring the bits of soreness from numb toes coming back to the waking world. He fumbles a little with the bottle before getting some of the medicine and downs it with the water. Then reaches to grab a towel.]

That arm should be in a sling, anyway.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric follows after, moving to take the heaviest towels from Tim. He can see you straining, okay. ]

Can - can we all stay here tonight? I think that would be. Nice.

[kayakking]

And you should be off your feet, Mr. Kettle. [Tim shoots back, dryly. Moving out of their way to facilitate Jon doing just that.

But he also doesn't mind Algric taking the load off either. Absolutely no complaints here.

Once distributed, he wraps one of the bathtowels around himself, rather than go through the annoyance of getting the damn thing back in the sling yet.]

[secreteary]

Oh-

[as the recently distressed party in this situation, it didn't occur to Martin that anyone would want to stay in his company after all of...that. he had even been debating whether or not to offer tea or to just let everyone get on their way.]

[quietly:] I think. I'd like that. If- I-if anyone's up for it.

[but then there are logistics to consider:]

I have- Well, they're going to be too big for Tim and Jon, but I've got shirts to sleep in and pyjama pants with drawstrings? So maybe you can tie them tight enough to work. And. A-and obviously for Algric, too. Erm. I don't have extra toothbrushes or anything, and maybe not enough groceries for breakfast for four people, but I can pop down the shops first thing in the morning. I have plenty of mugs for tea! If anyone wants any.

[and there's even a little excitement as he reveals:]

My sofa is actually a pull-out bed. I have extra pillows and blankets and an air mattress, so you all could be comfortable out here where it's warm? I'll take my bed since it's...you know.

[he doesn't say that he has all of these things for visitors that he never has. it's a little...exciting, in a way, to actually have a use for such hopeful preparation.]

[eyediot]

[If Jon were someone who acted more his age, he'd likely be making a face at Mr. Tim Pot Stoker. Instead, he finishes the glass of water and sighs; here's hoping that helps the migraine slowly throbbing behind his eyes.

He hadn't even considered staying the night. But staying with everyone... May be nice. Nicer than when they were all staying at the Archives before; somewhat... Kinder circumstances, if still not great.]

I think I'd like that as well. [Though Martin's talking about logistics and one thing sticks out. He sounds so, so confident.] Don't worry about breakfast. I'm sure it'll work out.

[He's going to make sure it works out himself. He starts drying off his arms as he heads to the living room, reaching to tug Martin along.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Oh, Martin. Algric’s own heart aches for a moment, knowing exactly where those impulses come from. Selfishly he longs for the same, despite the fact that it’s literally happening right now. Jon and Tim both here in his flat, having a sleepover ...

(It’s just not his flat, is it. Or his invitation. That hurts just a little, but it soothes in the same way that comforting Martin had. Old wounds are being bandaged tonight.) ]

There’s enough - enough room for all of us out here if we squeeze in close. That pull out is enormous. Plus it’ll be warmer this way.

[kayakking]

[There isn't the ache on Tim's side, just a brightening at watching the enthusiasm. That's... unexpectedly cute? That's definitely cute.

... And two of them, at least, shouldn't be left alone tonight anyway. And by what he walked into? Probably shouldn't be left alone with each other either.]

You know? [It's mild, honestly fond and a little weary, coming down from... everything that was.] I'm absolutely knackered. If it's not an imposition...

[secreteary]

[for the first time this whole night (and probably in a while beyond that), Martin brightens considerably.]

I'll go get some changes of clothes for everyone!

[back to the bedroom he goes!]

[eyediot]

[Jon watches him go, then sighs once and moves to put the towel he took and lay it on the couch. Then sits on it. He dares you to say something, Tim.. No getting the couch wet, and off his feet. Checkmate.]

All right.

[crap he left his socks and shoes in the other room. But they're also soaked, so they can stay in there for all he cares right now. And he's about to be in dry clothes for the night so these he's wearing can dry. He already ate at Tim's a little bit ago, so... What is there to do?]

Guess this is good a time as any to discuss the other matter.

[kayakking]

[He gives Jon a bit of a smirk at the spark of stubborn challenge in the other man's eyes. Then... has to give a tired pause at the very formal opener. As much as Tim feels like he should know what Jon's on about, the wheels in his head don't get much traction at this very moment.

He rubs a hand over his face, and clutches the towel back around himself as it starts to slip his shoulders.]

Other matter?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric takes one of the towels for himself, carefully drying his hair and what he can of his own clothes. Then he comes to hover around Jon, frowning down at his feet. He really, really thought those were worse off...

But he’s glad to see Martin brighten. He gets it. That need to be helpful or be completely ignored. ]

What - what other matter?

[eyediot]

[Okay. Okay with that reaction, he'll feel bad bringing all this down talking about the tunnels and destroying the Institute.

So instead, Jon gestures to both Algric and Martin, shifting his foot so Algric can look at it better. It was definitely worse off. Miraculous how fast the human body can heal, isn't it?]

When's the last proper meal you both had?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ The question catches Algric off guard; he instinctively surges forward to answer first. ]

O-oh, well, I did have dinner started back at your place —

[ Poor dinner. He sure hopes that Jon remembered to turn off the stove. He would fuss about that, but just as he goes to do so, he realises something that makes him go pale. Paler. ]

I’m - I’m rather full. Myself.

[eyediot]

[Jon catches Algric's eye at that. 'Rather full'? They hadn't eaten whatever Algric was making but--

And eventually, you'll find that you don't really ... get nourishment out of real food any more.

A sliver of worry worms its way into his expression, one hand hesitantly raising to ...To do what here?

It's not his place to open that can in front of the others; he'll let Algric unpack that if he wants.]

All right. So. Martin?

[secreteary]

[who is now walking back into the living room with three sets of sleepwear]

Hm?

[he's bothered everyone enough already. if it's going to be any trouble...]

I don't know. Are you hungry? Tim?

[kayakking]

[There's interplay there, but damn if he understands it. And at the moment, can't be arsed to wade through it. It's just, a little mental checkbox gets ticked, as if Jon is being delicate...

Later, then.

Martin's arrival forestalls all of that, Tim brightens at the prospect of being dry and warm again above all else.]

God, Martin, you are a king. [He is eagerly reaching out for one of those pairs of clothes.] Annnnd nope. Just ate. Thinking zero percent about food.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Bless you, Jon, for being subtle once in your goddamn life. Algric leaves the can of worms mercifully unopened, tucked away for when they aren’t all clinging to each other for comfort.

Algric had tugged the scarf down to look at Jon’s feet, but he carefully sets it back into place before turning towards Martin. He accepts a dry pyjama set gratefully, without looking at which one he ends up in. ]

But - but breakfast sounds lovely. We could all have a nice quiet morning together. After we’ve had a chance to sleep.

[ He’s already planning to cook, not realising that Jon will beat him to it. ]

[eyediot]

[Jon is focused on plopping the first aid kit Martin brought on the first trip down next to him. Since it isn't as bad, he likely won't need much help with it, or anything as heavy as before. Just some light wrappings so they don't get in bad shape again.]

Sleep... does sound good. [His only helpful contribution now that his hands are busy.]

[secreteary]

[all the guests take turns to use the bathroom to change into their provided sleepwear, and hang their wet clothes to (hopefully) dry overnight on the shower curtain rod.

Martin, in the meantime, is busying himself with setting up the air mattress, putting on the sheets especially meant for the occasions of its use, retrieving spare pillows and blankets. he smiles to himself through each task.

color blossoms in him the whole time, and he gives off less chill. there is a transparency to his edges in the view of anyone looking at him, and he would certainly be cooler to the touch than most people, but it's clearly a massive improvement that he himself has no awareness of.

fluffing one last pillow, he turns to everyone:]

Ready and waiting.

[after a moment, a look of uncertainty crosses his face.]

Are you sure about this? All of us together? I could go and give you all more room...

[kayakking]

You could, but I, for one, am looking forward to being warm again.

[Not that he isn't, and not that some of the supernatural freeze to the air hasn't significantly lessened... but he's humming a little ditty that's several songs stitched together as he claims a pile of blankets near the edge of the bed.]