[ The safehouse in Scotland has never been a perfect place. It's small and cramped, with window shutters that need repair and a moody exterior that keeps attention at bay. Which was probably the plan, given Daisy and ... everything, really.
But on this October morning, the sun is shining, the moors are misty, and Martin K. Blackwood is out in the garden, tending to the last of the herbs before the ground frosts over in earnest. There are no eyes in the sky, no worms churning the earth, no monuments to hubris and suffering.
Just Martin, his face smudged with fresh earth, wondering if this patch of mint is salvageable, and can he make a serviceable tea from it. ]
[Coming to himself is a horrible experience. Not quite painful, but his eyes open quickly, like waking up from a very bad dream about to go worse. Jon's out of breath despite having only been sleeping. His hand are gripping the sheets so tightly his muscles ache.
Where is he.
What happened.
Why is it so quiet.
He feels clean, he ...feels. There's some mild hunger, the ache in his head behind his eyes, the empty maw clawing at his insides from the loss of being overfed. The rush of memories flood in, leaving his head pounding, but...
Martin.
He bolts upright, looking to the door before jumping up, stumbling a bit on his way out and clinging to the front doorknob to hold himself upright.]
[ There's no immediate response, but Martin's head pops up in the window, looking in on him from the garden. ]
Oh! You're awake. Morning, sleepyhead.
[ Martin is clean too, save for the dirt smudges. None of the miserable exhaustion, or the blood, or any of the horrors that eventually tore him apart... ]
Jon, meanwhile, looks absolutely haunted, eyes wide and confused, fearful. This isn't real, this is a trick, he's in some kind of horror nightmare of his own making somehow, though it hasn't happened before so why would it now and--
And the sky.... is normal. It isn't looking back, not Watching.]
[ That ... that's not normal. That's pretty concerning, in fact? Martin frowns and heads back inside quickly, still holding his little basket of herbs. ]
It's - it's mint? Wild, I think, but. Probably safe?
[It has to be, if the pounding behind his eyes is anything to go by. And just how... real and fresh those memories he has feels. He knows he was just in that hell. But now he's here? He backs into the door, mumbling to himself.]
This has to be the dream. It must be, there's no- There isn't any way it's not.
[ Oh god. Jon's really going through something, isn't he? A nervous breakdown? Is it ... ]
Hey - hey. It's okay? I-I know you must be starving, b-but I checked the tracking on Basira's package, and it's due in today. The instant it arrives you can have all you like.
[ And in the meantime he's making tea. Actual tea, with the kettle and lovely little red box of sachets from the village. ]
[Jon's so overcome with the sensation of all of this. He reaches to touch down at his leg, feeling for the bandage Martin had put there himself, but... No. No injury, no indication Daisy ever attacked him. It's like the last few weeks never happened.
He squeezes his calf as the words settle in. His eyes track Martin, scared and ...daring to hope.]
[ The safehouse in Scotland has never been a perfect place. It's small and cramped, with window shutters that need repair and a moody exterior that keeps attention at bay. Which was probably the plan, given Daisy and ... everything, really.
But on this October morning, the sun is shining, the moors are misty, and Martin K. Blackwood is -
He's in the garden? Yes, he's in the garden, staring down at his tools with a blank look, like he's forgotten how he got there. (He has forgotten, hasn't he? There was something - something terrible, he swears--)
He swipes at his face, smudged with fresh earth as it is, and hurries to shove the patch of mint into his basket. He needs something bracing. Some tea? Some lunch? Something. ]
[Coming to himself is a horrible experience. Not quite painful, but his eyes open quickly, like waking up from a very bad dream about to go worse. Jon's out of breath despite having only been sleeping. His hand are gripping the sheets so tightly his muscles ache.
Where is he.
What happened.
Why is it so quiet.
He feels clean, he ...feels. There's only a faint hunger having just fed, the ache in his head behind his eyes, the feeling of emptiness leaving a place he was overfed vaguely familiar. The rush of memories flood in, leaving his head pounding, but...
Martin.
He bolts upright, looking to the door before jumping up, stumbling a bit on his way out and clinging to the front doorknob to hold himself upright. He hopes there's no blood, there's no open, bare throat muscle-]
[ Something is strange, but he can’t remember why? He just feels dimly unsettled, like he’d had a bad dream himself. He hurries to head back inside.
He’s whole, normal. No exposed throat or horrible papery skin. ]
[Jon looks up at him, clearly having woken up from a horrible nightmare himself. Haunted and like he's seeing a ghost now, hand shaking on the doorknob. His knees are weak and he's almost falling over himself in relief.
If this is real, if this is Helen's doing then...
The easiest thing is to identify that statement and burn it without even opening the folder. That should... fix this?]
I-i think so. Now that I'm... [He exhales, shakily, brokenly.] You're safe.
I - I’ve always been safe, Jon. I’ve just been out in the garden.
[ But he seems uncertain? Feels uncertain. His hand drifts to his throat instinctively before falling back. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Just a bit of soreness for some reason, some burning ... ]
Jon - Jon is something going on? You look terrified.
Just... [He gulps, not able to take his eyes off Martin.]
Just a bad dream. Gave me a, a bit of a shake up. [But he catches that motion to Martin's throat, daring to take one shaky step forward, reaching for him.]
[ Never; he hasn’t so much as whispered about a nightmare in Jon’s presence, or any kind of nice dreams for that matter. But he looks shaken in a way he can’t quite put his own finger on. ]
I-I mean if you want? It wasn’t ... nice. At all. But, you know, just a nightmare. Can’t hurt us, right?
[There's a wry sense of humor in that. Nightmares can't hurt him when he's the Archivist. HE gently tugs Martin to come sit with him, on this same couch he can't seem to get away from.]
[ He sits, then, automatically looping an arm around Jon. ]
All right. Well ... it’s terribly blurry, but.
[ He smooths a circle into Jon’s back with his thumb. ]
We were on the couch like this? And we’d just gotten in the box of statements from Basira. B-but you were afraid that one of them might end the world, so you asked me to read them ahead of time and ...
(1)
Date: 2020-10-22 12:14 am (UTC)But on this October morning, the sun is shining, the moors are misty, and Martin K. Blackwood is out in the garden, tending to the last of the herbs before the ground frosts over in earnest. There are no eyes in the sky, no worms churning the earth, no monuments to hubris and suffering.
Just Martin, his face smudged with fresh earth, wondering if this patch of mint is salvageable, and can he make a serviceable tea from it. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 12:56 am (UTC)Where is he.
What happened.
Why is it so quiet.
He feels clean, he ...feels. There's some mild hunger, the ache in his head behind his eyes, the empty maw clawing at his insides from the loss of being overfed. The rush of memories flood in, leaving his head pounding, but...
Martin.
He bolts upright, looking to the door before jumping up, stumbling a bit on his way out and clinging to the front doorknob to hold himself upright.]
Martin?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 01:02 am (UTC)Oh! You're awake. Morning, sleepyhead.
[ Martin is clean too, save for the dirt smudges. None of the miserable exhaustion, or the blood, or any of the horrors that eventually tore him apart... ]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 01:09 am (UTC)Jon, meanwhile, looks absolutely haunted, eyes wide and confused, fearful. This isn't real, this is a trick, he's in some kind of horror nightmare of his own making somehow, though it hasn't happened before so why would it now and--
And the sky.... is normal. It isn't looking back, not Watching.]
What is this.
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:10 am (UTC)It's - it's mint? Wild, I think, but. Probably safe?
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:13 am (UTC)[Martin's clean. Martin's just been in a garden and digging like nothing was wrong at all. Jon shakes his head slowly, backing away.]
I don't believe this.
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:15 am (UTC)Hey - hey, it's okay. You had a nightmare, right?
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:19 am (UTC)Maybe?
I-i don't know. It... It felt real, it was real.
[It has to be, if the pounding behind his eyes is anything to go by. And just how... real and fresh those memories he has feels. He knows he was just in that hell. But now he's here? He backs into the door, mumbling to himself.]
This has to be the dream. It must be, there's no- There isn't any way it's not.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 01:22 am (UTC)Why don't you sit down and - and let me make you some tea. Okay? See if that settles you.
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:26 am (UTC)[There's no tea, there hasn't been for at least a month if not longer now, they'd been walking for so long. He can't settle.]
Things can't be like this, this place can't be here, it... It's not possible.
[But the shock and sudden starving sensation at least has him slowly sinking to the floor, back against the wall.]
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:29 am (UTC)Hey - hey. It's okay? I-I know you must be starving, b-but I checked the tracking on Basira's package, and it's due in today. The instant it arrives you can have all you like.
[ And in the meantime he's making tea. Actual tea, with the kettle and lovely little red box of sachets from the village. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 01:37 am (UTC)He squeezes his calf as the words settle in. His eyes track Martin, scared and ...daring to hope.]
B-basira's package?
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Date: 2020-10-22 01:40 am (UTC)That's right. The one with all the statements from the Institute.
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Date: 2020-10-22 03:40 pm (UTC)But on this October morning, the sun is shining, the moors are misty, and Martin K. Blackwood is -
He's in the garden? Yes, he's in the garden, staring down at his tools with a blank look, like he's forgotten how he got there. (He has forgotten, hasn't he? There was something - something terrible, he swears--)
He swipes at his face, smudged with fresh earth as it is, and hurries to shove the patch of mint into his basket. He needs something bracing. Some tea? Some lunch? Something. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 03:47 pm (UTC)Where is he.
What happened.
Why is it so quiet.
He feels clean, he ...feels. There's only a faint hunger having just fed, the ache in his head behind his eyes, the feeling of emptiness leaving a place he was overfed vaguely familiar. The rush of memories flood in, leaving his head pounding, but...
Martin.
He bolts upright, looking to the door before jumping up, stumbling a bit on his way out and clinging to the front doorknob to hold himself upright. He hopes there's no blood, there's no open, bare throat muscle-]
Martin? Are you there?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 03:50 pm (UTC)[ Something is strange, but he can’t remember why? He just feels dimly unsettled, like he’d had a bad dream himself. He hurries to head back inside.
He’s whole, normal. No exposed throat or horrible papery skin. ]
I-is everything all right?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 03:56 pm (UTC)[Jon looks up at him, clearly having woken up from a horrible nightmare himself. Haunted and like he's seeing a ghost now, hand shaking on the doorknob. His knees are weak and he's almost falling over himself in relief.
If this is real, if this is Helen's doing then...
The easiest thing is to identify that statement and burn it without even opening the folder. That should... fix this?]
I-i think so. Now that I'm... [He exhales, shakily, brokenly.] You're safe.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 03:59 pm (UTC)[ But he seems uncertain? Feels uncertain. His hand drifts to his throat instinctively before falling back. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Just a bit of soreness for some reason, some burning ... ]
Jon - Jon is something going on? You look terrified.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 04:05 pm (UTC)Just a bad dream. Gave me a, a bit of a shake up. [But he catches that motion to Martin's throat, daring to take one shaky step forward, reaching for him.]
Are you all right?
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 04:11 pm (UTC)[ He meets Jon halfway, gripping Jon’s hand with his own. ]
Just - I - I’d say bad dream too, except I haven’t slept recently. Maybe I just remembered last night’s dream all of a sudden.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-22 04:13 pm (UTC)[When was the last time Martin even talked about his dreams? He squeezes Martin's hand, taking the basket of herbs to set down on the coffee table.]
Would you want to talk about it?
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Date: 2020-10-22 04:17 pm (UTC)I-I mean if you want? It wasn’t ... nice. At all. But, you know, just a nightmare. Can’t hurt us, right?
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Date: 2020-10-22 04:19 pm (UTC)If it would help, I'd like to hear it.
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Date: 2020-10-22 04:22 pm (UTC)All right. Well ... it’s terribly blurry, but.
[ He smooths a circle into Jon’s back with his thumb. ]
We were on the couch like this? And we’d just gotten in the box of statements from Basira. B-but you were afraid that one of them might end the world, so you asked me to read them ahead of time and ...
[ He swallows thickly. ]
A-and I did. It took me over.
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Date: 2020-10-22 04:25 pm (UTC)But he goes completely stiff when Martin explains it. His eyes widen and he stares up at him.]
...M-martin.
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