[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]

Oh.

[That makes sense. There's a pang of... something in his chest he isn't quite sure what to call, just thinking back to his own life before the Archive.]

...It smells good.

[curriculum_fictae]

Yeah? G-good. It's - one I made a lot. Simple, hard to mess up, really cheap.

[ He sets the last plate down and then sits at the table. ]

[eyediot]

['Hard to mess up' and Jon still somehow fucked it up.

He watches Martin for a moment, then gets a couple glasses to bring water and spoons to the table with him for the both of them.]

I... supppose. Dinner time. ...I can't remember the last time I ate dinner with anyone.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Water works nicely; Martin accepts his glass with a faint smile. And moves to dig in. He really was hungry. And not about to eat Jon's food without permission. ]

N-no? Not at all?

[eyediot]

[Well, if Martin's digging in then he will to. He keeps talking between bites]

No. I mean, I don't really hang out with any of you outside the Archive, you're my staff. And. Well, the work we do doesn't really... I mean since the attack and all..

[He's a creepy Archivist in a creepy Archive, who wants to hang out with that?]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Oh? Oh. Martin makes the connection a moment later. He'd never thought that way, of course. Or at least he hadn't until Jon had, you know, stalked them, but. It all seems ... laughable now. What's a little light stalking after Peter Lukas? ]

You could always ask past me. I - I have it on good authority that he'd probably say yes.

[eyediot]

[He sighs into his meal, chewing thoughtfully over his bite.]

You all are starting to hate me. So, I think I'll. Postpone that idea.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Right. Definitely in that phase right now. Martin can't argue, so he eats for a long moment instead. ]

I don't hate you. Tim ...

[ A wince. ]

Tim definitely hates you.

[eyediot]

[A deep exhale.]

Tim definitely hates me.

[Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that's fair. He kind of deserves that. But if Martin's telling the truth, that Tim dies before this is all over... Jon. Doesn't want Tim hating him at the end.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Sorry, Jon. He doesn't have good news for you on that front. ]

Well, you can work on that now. I'll - I'll get out of your hair soon enough, and things can get better for you.

[eyediot]

What do you mean? You'll be 'out of my hair'?

[curriculum_fictae]

Well I can't bloody well stay here, can I? I have to go back. Somehow.

[ Back to ... ah. The Lonely. Martin winces at the thought. ]

Or I'll just leave town. Something.

[eyediot]

Nonsense.

[He's still eating, not even looking at Martin, and his tone is so matter-of-fact. But the fact is... He's worried. About Martin like this, about how there's almost no color to his skin or how ...muted he seems. Muted is the best descriptor he can come to.]

You'll stay here until we figure things out.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Muted is the kindest descriptor that isn't inaccurate, at least. He blinks at Jon for a moment, not sure he's heard right. ]

But - I can't - that's not fair to you --

[eyediot]

It is if I say it is.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Another barely visible flush. ]

Are you sure?

[eyediot]

[Another bite.]

I am.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin looks down at his food, that redness deepening slightly. ]

Well. Well - then okay. I can't exactly go back to my place, so ...

[eyediot]

Couch is all yours.

Just... Don't make it weird.

[He isn't sure how 'weird' translates here given the circumstances. He knows he's bound to get annoyed with Martin sooner than later, but if it means he can get some answers? And possibly keep an eye on one of his staff closer? He'll take it.]

[curriculum_fictae]

R-right. No weirdness. I can manage that.

[ He laughs, nervously. Completely normal Martin, that's him. No weird feelings or supernatural powers for him. ]

I can pay you back by making dinner?

[eyediot]

You already did.

[In fact, he's pulling his bowl over to start on the soup.]

[curriculum_fictae]

I-I meant making dinner every night I'm here, not just tonight.

[ He continues to work on his own food. ]

[eyediot]

Oh.

[He hadn't... even considered that. He was figuring he'd just fill the fridge with ready meals and call it a day.]

That... could work.

[curriculum_fictae]

I mean, it's the least I can do. I can't exactly pay you, or even buy supplies, or. Or anything like that.

[eyediot]

Don't worry about buying supplies, if I'm eating it then I'm buying the ingredients.

[He also doesn't want to hear you shit-talk him buying the wrong things okay.]