[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

[itsfreemealestate]

Scared?

[Michael's laugh comes on like a nosebleed, and for a moment, sight goes haywire, processing in a burst of smell. Reds look like mold and yellows smell like baking bread and greens have the odor of blood and -]

Hhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

[It subsides with that sigh, eyes doing what they should. It's smile is not... pleasant. It twists up, taking most of Michael's face.]

Tell me another joke, Archivist. I quite liked that one.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric doesn't quite take the full brunt of that, but it's enough to make his senses go off kilter, tilting into something - unnatural. Which, you know, makes Jon's case. If the Spiral puts something in his head, he might see this all the time. ]

I - I know it's a bad idea, but what else can I do --

[eyediot]

[Jon has to swallow back down the bile that just rose up in him, trying to keep his head from swimming too much. But he can see it. He reaches forward from where he's sitting to Algric's hand.]

Let me... Try.

[The scents is lingering and he can feel the dribble down his face is irritating, but. He's sure he can try this.]

[itsfreemealestate]

[At this point, it's hard to tell which WHAT the Distortion is at the moment. But it's Helen's voice.]

Really? Are we doing amateur hour here?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric stares at Jon for a moment, both touched and mildly horrified. ]

Jon - Jon you're bleeding already, I don't want you to hurt yourself -

[ But it's not a no, and he takes Jon's hand in an uncertain agreement. ]

[eyediot]

I won't.

[Hurt himself, that is. He looks back at Helen, eyes just faintly tinted wit ha glazed green - not fully awakened, but Enough. Then back up to Algric.]

I. I need to try. [There's the unspoken question though: Does Algric really wanna try this with Helen right there?]

1/2

[itsfreemealestate]

[Oh. Oh that IS interesting. And so soon.]

[itsfreemealestate]

Well, it's your noodle, kiddo.

[It's Watching Jon.]

But if you do think better of it... well. You know how to find me.

[She mimics a little knock on the air. It sounds a bit like knuckles on wood. And she steps through a door that isn't in the floor. It closes.

It's gone.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ God. Algric just. Lets out a miserable noise and slumps a bit. Well that answers the unspoken question, doesn't it. And the one he'd had as a follow up. If Jon can't do it, he'll still have to go to her.

But. This is. This is the right decision, right? Asking Jon to try? He hopes so. ]

She - it - they are - very unsettling.

[ DEEP BREATHS. ]

If - if you think you can do it, Jon, I. I think it would be safer than Helen trying.

[eyediot]

...I think so too.

[He squeezes Algric's hand, but rather than go right on and try, he stands up, presses his forehead to Algric's, then looks around the room.]

Tim? You still there?

[Please don't let that mess have left him brain damaged or comatose or something, please, he just needs the people he has left to be all right--]

[kayakking]

[It takes a moment to realize he's being addressed, and a few more to muster up an answer, mind still vibrating.

Tim looks up across the kitchen, where he'd slumped down against the counter at some point during the--- what was that? A conversation? A standoff?

Horror, he decides firmly. Complete and overwhelming horror.]

Yeah. [It sounds weak and shaky even to him. Fuck it.] Trying not to puke here. Gimmie- just gimmie a second.

[secreteary]

[the relief from its departure is overwhelming. Martin doesn't realize that every muscle in his body was achingly taut until it's gone, and he sags, bending over the table to lean on his elbows and bury his face in his hands, struggling to breathe. or think. what's running through his mind is mostly the word horrible. everything about what happened just now is horrible. it's not that Helen's nature affected him that much, no; it's almost pure anxiety.

it takes a few moments to register that Jon and Algric are talking, a little more to understand it, and even more to understand it.

he looks up, wide-eyed.]

Could that...really work?

[it makes sense. too much sense. if Jon is aligned with power the same as Elias, it seems only natural. like the most obvious conclusion. but is Jon strong enough to do it?]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric just ... leans against Jon for a moment, breathing him in. But he doesn't linger long, being mindful of Martin. No sense in setting off a jealousy feedback loop right after dealing with Helen.

He ... realises quickly that he just isn't as badly affected as the others, is he? Sure, that wasn't pleasant, but Tim seems downright ill, and he can hear how laboured Martin's breaths are. Meanwhile, Algric is here all numb and cool, unsettled but ultimately unfazed.

(He really is two steps away from becoming a monster, isn't he. Of course.) ]

I - maybe. It could work. We - we never tried it in my timeline.

[ He wrings his hands. ]

We can do that later. Weren't - weren't we all having a nice breakfast?

[eyediot]

Later... Yes.

[He takes a few shaky breaths, stops by Martin to rest a hand on his shoulder (grounding him, reminding him that they're all here), before moving to Tim to check on him too. He kneels down, feeling his jaw trembling uncontrollably and tries to steady his own stomach.]

And I think my, um. My appetite's a bit spent.

[He's... drained. In so, so many ways.]

[kayakking]

[Tim doesn't shift from where he is. Instead he mumbles to Jon.]

Rubbish bin, under the sink. Please.

[His stomach seems to be righting itself, actually. But he's not particularly inclined to risk it.

He sets his head down on his drawn up knees and takes a long, steadying breath.]

Is that... thing actually gone?

[secreteary]

[Jon's touch helps, but not as much as Algric's suggestion to continue breakfast. yes. back to something normal. something pleasant. moving on from the fear like it never happened. that's the way, isn't it?

but it doesn't seem like Tim and Jon can quite yet, especially the former. almost in a trance, Martin goes to do what he does best:

fuss.

he can't answer Tim's question, but he can go and grab the bin and some cold water. he even runs the tap and dampens one of his dish towels, motioning to Tim to put it on the back of his neck. he's heard that it helps, somewhere, but he isn't sure. couldn't hurt though, right?]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin's got the fussing covered, which leaves Algric to deal with the answers. He doesn't Know the same way Jon does, of course, but ... an avatar of the Lonely has a very keen awareness when someone has left your space. Yes, Michaelen is definitely not here at the moment. ]

W-well - well still, we shouldn't waste it. If we can. The food, I mean.

[ Not that he's super hungry, of course, though he will try for the sake of appearances. ]

The - the Distortion definitely left. Yet. We're alone again.

[eyediot]

Yes, it's... Gone.

[He confirms it behind Algric. He does just Know it. Once the rubbish bin is set out, Jon sits on the floor and leans back against the cabinet. He just needs a minute.]

Not exactly how I thought we'd spend this morning.

[kayakking]

[He makes a small, appreciative noise at Martin's gesture. It's certainly something that helps brace him at least emotionally.]

Okay. Okay good.

[He puts a hand on the bin but doesn't move otherwise. He is, at least, thankful for the company.]

...

[He's quiet. There's not the anger Algric remembers, or even the dull resignation that marked his exhaustion. Just a real careful question, more the neutrality of someone who hasn't quite worked out their own feelings yet.]

That x-factor healing what helped you all deal with ... that. Or something else?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Ah. That's ... a relevant question, isn't it. Since Martin has the fussing covered, Algric sits back down at his place. Not eating, just watching with a worried expression on his face. And making sure not to look at Martin. ]

Yes. I - I think so. It's subtle, but ...

[ He gestures, helpfully, between all four of them. ]

A-as you can see, I'm. Not particularly affected any more.

[eyediot]

[It's. Well, it's nearly impossible to hide the sound of being sick. But Jon has the decency to gently take the bin from Tim's grasp and turn away so he doesn't see it. A couple heaves and he tries to get his breath again, then sits back.

Okay. Okay, he's fine. That's about all his stomach can handle. Jon wipes at the blood dripping down the front of his face and looks at it on his hand. He's starting to get the feeling... He won't be well liked in the Archivist position.]

That's.. Good, for now probably.

[secreteary]

[oh no!!!

another cold dish towel, placed gently on the back of Jon's neck. then when he's sure that it will stay, Martin gets up to get cold water for Jon, too. oh yes, and a paper towel for that nosebleed.

he moves to Jon and kneels next to him, handing him the paper towel and placing the glass of water on the floor in Jon's view and reach.

standing up, he goes to Tim and puts a hand on his shoulder.]

Does anything need anything? Algric? You say you're okay, but...

[kayakking]

[Poor bastard. Tim winces at the retching, but - the consideration seemed to allow him to keep his own stomach, if just barely. Whatever that Michael ... Helen... amalgamation did had to have been... worse. Definitely worse.

He waves off the concern and just, drops a hand on Martin's lightly. A reassuring pat, given he wasn't feeling up to moving.]

Nah, I've uh.. got this. Just a second.

[Then, quietly, to Martin.] You okay, man?

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Algric looks down at the poor, forgotten breakfast. This had been very nice for a moment. Shame he'd clearly tempted Michaelen into showing up and torpedoing it. ]

I'm - I'm fine, Martin. Truly. I think I'm the most fine person here.

[ He means that genuinely. ]

Jon you should - you should sit down. We should all sit down and just. Take it easy this morning.

[ Algric keeps head turned away, carefully avoiding catching any glimpses of Martin fussing about. ]

[eyediot]

[Jon shifts the bin over to Tim and rests his head back against the cabinet again. This time, he takes the damp cold towel from the back of his neck and proceeds to unfold it. Then lay it over his entire face. Anything to cool himself down from that.]

I'm-- I'm sitting. No worries there. I'll head back over i-in a minute.

[He touches at his shoulder, where Michael had stabbed him two weeks prior with one of his finger-knives. It's healed up all right, but he can't help the reflexive need to press at it.]

...So the... Helen portion. That was from your time in the future, Algric?

[Maybe he Knew, maybe he picked up context clues.]