By Hook or by Crook [The Tarabroo. An interesting name to be sure.
Jon isn't approaching the dock too closely, although gods, he can taste the fear from here, a reasonable way away with a pair of binoculars. He makes a note of the name of the boat, and any markings he can see, flags and the like.
This would all be so much easier if he could just go and ask, but there's a lot of dock workers and he probably can't compell all of them. He shouldn't be compelling anyone.]
This was so much easier at the Institute.
[Information acquired, he heads back to ADI to do some research into that boat, and can be found hunched over a laptop, stacks of books next to him.]
Feed Me, Kahlil [He's pacing, not quite managing to get up to courage to go and ask if he can talk to the prisoner. He could get infomration! He knows that he could. It would be so easy.
But it might reveal who- what he is. It might put Martin at risk. Is he just... putting himself over the world? He could tell them so much, but he doesn't know for sure and they have no real reason to trust him.]
Get a grip. Just go and ask to speak to him. It's fine.
The Vegetable Lamb of Tartary [Jon has been to many horrifying places and experienced... well, a whole world's worth of terror, and this is still pushing it.
As they walk further into the- well, supposedly a warehouse, he tries to rank it. Anything to keep his mind off the smell and the uncomfortable feeling that they're being swallowed. So, Flesh, with a definite hint of corruption. Better or worse than tunnels full of worms? Possibly better but that's because he's more used to this.]
Spiders are still worse.
[He says it quietly, more to himself.
The phone cases are... horrifying. He can hear them whispering. They promise such wonderful things. He's a monster, he's irredeemable. And all he has to do is let them feed and they can take that away. Even with the biting, the bleeding... that would be so good, except... except...
He knows that. It isn't new.]
I don't feed you. Why don't you tell me the truth?
[It's hissed at the thing that had bitten him, full of venom and he tries to rip it away, heedless of bleeding fingers.]
no subject
[The Tarabroo. An interesting name to be sure.
Jon isn't approaching the dock too closely, although gods, he can taste the fear from here, a reasonable way away with a pair of binoculars. He makes a note of the name of the boat, and any markings he can see, flags and the like.
This would all be so much easier if he could just go and ask, but there's a lot of dock workers and he probably can't compell all of them. He shouldn't be compelling anyone.]
This was so much easier at the Institute.
[Information acquired, he heads back to ADI to do some research into that boat, and can be found hunched over a laptop, stacks of books next to him.]
Feed Me, Kahlil
[He's pacing, not quite managing to get up to courage to go and ask if he can talk to the prisoner. He could get infomration! He knows that he could. It would be so easy.
But it might reveal who- what he is. It might put Martin at risk. Is he just... putting himself over the world? He could tell them so much, but he doesn't know for sure and they have no real reason to trust him.]
Get a grip. Just go and ask to speak to him. It's fine.
The Vegetable Lamb of Tartary
[Jon has been to many horrifying places and experienced... well, a whole world's worth of terror, and this is still pushing it.
As they walk further into the- well, supposedly a warehouse, he tries to rank it. Anything to keep his mind off the smell and the uncomfortable feeling that they're being swallowed. So, Flesh, with a definite hint of corruption. Better or worse than tunnels full of worms? Possibly better but that's because he's more used to this.]
Spiders are still worse.
[He says it quietly, more to himself.
The phone cases are... horrifying. He can hear them whispering. They promise such wonderful things. He's a monster, he's irredeemable. And all he has to do is let them feed and they can take that away. Even with the biting, the bleeding... that would be so good, except... except...
He knows that. It isn't new.]
I don't feed you. Why don't you tell me the truth?
[It's hissed at the thing that had bitten him, full of venom and he tries to rip it away, heedless of bleeding fingers.]