apocalypsehowcomm | Heart of Darkness [Open]

Entry tags:

Heart of Darkness [Open]

Who: Jonathan Sims

the_archivist and you!
When: Late April-May
Where: Various locations, including ADI HQ and around town+the train
Summary: Catch-all for the month
Warnings: Scars, monsteryness, injuries, burns, violence, horror, self harm

Recovery - Post Interrogation, around ADI accomodation and town

He hurts. It isn't a new feeling. He has been hurt before and in the same way too. Jude Perry's hand melting against his, the blast of explosives tearing him apart, the scorching heat of a building filled with flame. It makes his muscles burn, and joints ache to the point where he's walking with a cane.

But it is healing. And while the pain is real, there's something distant about it too. He knows it will heal, that he will feed and recover and he will be whole once more.

He isn't sure that's actually a good thing. It's been strange since arriving here, escaping the apocalypse, how different some things feel. He still feels fear, but it isn't the same. He supposes it's hard to have a normal reaction to fear when you've spent months being the core of them, when you know them more intimately than anyone else ever has.

He thinks his fear might be broken.

Any philosophising aside, the pain does make it harder to get around. He's slower walking, gripping onto the head of the cane, and steps are agony. He still goes into the office though, burying himself in futile research.

He does visit town as well, finds himself hungry and watching people with stories pass by, trying to hold himself back.

Well Read
A book fair is something that Jon is very interested in, both because he could do with more things to read, and potentially use as research, and also because... well, news of books being donated by a mysterious benefactor is something that rather puts him on edge.

The mention of books on his library card that he definitely didn't take out, and the name of one of them, Eye in the Sky, is enough to make him give a long-suffering sigh.

Still, it's a good book fair, and he picks up several volumes that seem like they'd be useful.

He's persuaded to sit down at one of the laptops for a quiz.

It starts normally at first. Questions about books which he flies through, and then, slowly he starts to feel that familiar pricklying against his skin, like he's being watched. He almost wants to look around to see if- if Elias is there.

Would you sacrifice a friend to save the world?

What?

Would you rather live as a monster or die as a human?

That's not-

Would you doom another world to save one person?

He digs his fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw blood, and stares at the screen, trying to fight that feeling that is far too much like reading a statement, like reading that- the ritual.

"You already have everything," he mutters.

Training Wheels Off
Jon has caught plenty of trains, but there's definitely a difference between the tube and this sort of train. Eighteen hours at home would get him a good chunk of the way across Europe, while this is just what? A state over? If it's even that.

Of course things can't stay calm so he can enjoy it.

The mutterings start; stories of being locked into shrinking cabins, of scratch maks and fingernails. Sounds too much like the coffin for his comfort. He's happy to investigate if people have encountered it, and to accompany them if necessary.

And then the darkness comes. It is... a tangible thing, feeling his sight blotted out so thoroughly. The Darkness had always been in opposition to the eye, and this is no different.

But he remembers looking into the heart of the Black Sun and making it shatter too. He grips onto that memory, forces down his fear as much as he can.

He doesn't look at the window, or try to find the source of the tapping.

"I'm here," he says quietly, "if you need a reminder. The darkness ends, eventually."

[OOC: Totally open for other things as well! You can find me on the Discord or on Plurk

zaliachimera

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

By this point, Beau is familiar enough with Jon. They spend similar hours in the library, Beau cursing at books and not calling him out if either of them are up at some ungodly hour. She knows he knows a lot. She knows that whatever he does, Aelwyn needed him for the Fenix interrogation, that he would be able to do something like she could and make him talk. It's a lot of pieces that don't make sense. And the way Fenix looked at her, some of what he said...

Well, it doesn't sit right. And he seems like the person to ask.

At some point, Jon may have found it funny that she's got a massive eye tattooed on the back of her neck and head, a jade-green spectre that meant something much different way back when. But now it's her actual eyes looking at him, coming into wherever he's sat his work down and plopping herself across, bandaged hands resting on the table.

"Hey. You got a minute? Or a couple minutes. Wanna ask you something about the, uh..." She sort of waves her hands, bandaged, but obviously burned. "The whole thing."

Martin knows he can't actually stop Jon from getting out of the apartment- sure, he could probably glue the man's pants to the couch or lock a bunch of doors, but that seems rude and frankly inefficient. They both know that Martin could say whatever he wanted and Jon would still get out, and Jon could promise whatever and Martin would still fuss at him. It's just... a thing, they're getting over. Getting through.

That said, Martin is absolutely fussing more about the everything and refusing to take no for an answer, which is why it's become his self-appointed job to know where Jon is All Of The Time. It's better they get some time off-property anyway, so at one point where the other man is looking off somewhere, Martin slides back up again and presses a to-go cup into Jon's hands.

"Did the milk and sugar like you like. C'mon, let's find a place to sit somewhere, you don't need to be on your feet any more than you insist." There's a smile to his voice, on his face, but the worry is still there and Martin's not especially bothering to hide it. "Lean on me if you need, alright?"

Jon tears himself away from the book he's reading to raise an eyebrow at her. The bandages look nasty. He bets he can guess what had caused the injuries and he has utmost sympathy considering how much he hurts right now.

"You might have to narrow it down. 'The whole thing' covers a lot of possibilities."

Despite what he'd said the day he went for the fishing poles, George has returned to the general store several times. It's not the discount. Everything is ridiculously expensive, always, and he's not sure he'll ever get over it. It doesn't take a math whiz to realize that a dollar also doesn't stretch near as far as it used to, even accounting for all the inflation. It's the everything else, the way it still feels like a proper store should feel, the way the cashier he clashed with that day has let bygones be bygones, the way the stock changes with the season beginning to pass.

He leaves with his satchel slung over his shoulder and goods inside, mostly fruit, a carton of Morton, good old Morton, and a sock darner. On his way down the sidewalk he spots him, a fellow he has seen in and around ADI, usually in a hurry and minding his own business. The cane is new. It makes him think of Jaeger and get to wondering what he missed.

"Hey," he says as he approaches and touches his hat brim. "Pretty sure I seen you around. You headin' to the store? I don't mind giving an extra hand."

He feels helpless. He hates feeling that way. It's characterised so much of his life for the past few years. That's probably why he'd been so insistent on walking into town, pain be damned, because he has to control something/i>. And maybe the fresh air will do him good.

He's exhausted and hurting by the time they get into town and he's grateful for the chance to rest while Martin grabs a drink. He loves Martin, and having someone care so much for him is more wonderful than he could ever have imagined. But it's also grating.

He smiles when Martin returns, and takes the cup, clutching it between both hands.

"I'm fine Martin," he says. "I've got my stick." He grabs it now using it to support himself. "And, thank you. For the drink."

"That's great," comes a reply from somewhere in the pitch blackness.

It's very dry, sarcastic and absolutely covering up its own fear about the unearthly situation.

"Any idea when that is?"

At the laptop next to him is another man, perhaps mostly remarkable from the cape he had draped over his shoulders, but that was far less interesting than him crossing his fingers.

The cursor was blinking, and he couldn't bring himself to move because he hadn't yet answered the question.

Would you sacrifice everyone as a means to an end?

He was downright attempting to refuse to answer that question.

"This quiz is full of bullshit." He muttered under his breath, glancing at the other man next to him. "There doesn't seem to be an end to the questions, is there?"

"When we reach the end of the tunnel," Jon replies, as calmly as he can manage. It is just a tunnel. They'll be through it soon enough. "Or when the End claims everything, but that's a long time off."

And rather morbid. He should probably have just not said that.

"Tell me about yourself," he says. Not a command really, not infused with power. But well, humans have been staving off the darkness with stories for thousands of years.

Yeah, Jon would know something about a burned hand, wouldn't he? Lots of things they inadvertanly have in common. She sighs and leans back a bit in her chair, trying to think of how to phrase what her ask even is.

"The thing with Fenix. That I know we were both at because we look like shit." As usual, she has the manners of a bull in a china shop, but at least she seems self aware enough to know this if the grimace on her face is any indication. "Look, I've seen you here a lot. You seem to know what you're doing. And for... whatever reason, I talked to Aelwyn, and she said you were plan A for talking to Fenix. So you know something I don't."

She raises her eyebrows as if to look for confirmation. It doesn't seem like a threat, but it's a little hard to tell sometimes when she looks and acts as she does.

"You're assuming there aren't many other reasons why I might look like this, but I take your point," Jon says, voice dry, although it really isn't something that he wants to talk about.

He frowns a little when he learns that Aelwyn had told Beau about him. That was supposed to be kept as private as possible. He doesn't want to be known as 'plan A' for interrogating someone.

"We come from very different worlds, so I probably know a lot of things you don't, and vice versa. Be more specific and tell me what you actually want to know."

Tell me about yourself, the voice in the dark says and Carter's first impulse is to snap. Who wants to know? You tell him about yourself.

But he's freaked out beyond belief by the unearthly dark. Is it Dunn? Is she behind this? How could darkness be so thick, so tangible? He's still new to the whole supernatural spiel and while he's trying to play it off with sarcasm it's upsetting, to say the least.

So talking is nice.

"John Carter. I'm a doctor. Emergency medicine."

It had probably been a mistake to come into town. He is aching, and will probably pay for it tomorrow. But he had needed some space, some time to think, and the flat he shares with Martin had felt close and cloying.

He feels guilty for that. Martin is just trying to help. He is helping. Jon just- it's harder now that it isn't the apocalypse, now he can't know everything, and can't heal in a moment.

He hesitates when he spots the man approaching him, for a second, that old fear of being attacked rising inside him. But the man just touches his hat, and seems to want to talk, for some unfathomable reason.

"I was," he admits, awkwardness seeming to suffuse him. "But please, don't feel like you need to change your plans on my behalf."

"I don't really mind none. Got some extra space in the satchel, too." It's always awkward for him, situations like this. Men have their pride, and almost no one likes to be questioned about an injury. He can't shake the coincidence, his lips pressing a temporary flat line.

"Name's George. George Milton. I reckon we's co-workers a' sorts. Can't help but feel like maybe I laid down on the job or something. You ain't the first one I seen busted up in the past few days." He'd visited Jaeger in the infirmary a few times, taken him some magazines. He was unsurprisingly closed lipped.

"Who has everything?" Don't mind Ainsley, she just happened to be wandering by as Jon started muttering to himself.

Too bad she's also really nosy, and definitely just caught the sight of one of those questions– "...live as a monster or die as a human?" Her face scrunches at that. "What kind of choice is that?"

Edited 2022-05-10 13:45 (UTC)

Jon blinks and looks up from the computer he's working at. It seems to take a great effort, a similar effort to trying to break off reading a statement, although not quite as stong.

As soon as he does, the pressure eases, just a little. It's still there, and he fights to keep his gaze away from the screen.

"I don't know. I assume there must be. Everything ends eventually."

The pull was a problem, he couldn't just get up and walk way. He wanted to, badly, because this was utter nonsense, and yet he couldn't.

"The faster it ends the better, considering it never lets me add context, it just rejects my answers." He frowned.

"Have you attempted to get around the questions?"

Jon nods, even though the other man can't see it. "That sounds difficult. I know it takes a long time to train, although I'm less familiar with how things work in America."

Doctors... god, it seems so baffling and mundane these days. Going to university, studying, having a normal job.

"Where did you work before you came here?"

"I know, I know it's fine, but still." Martin's sticking close by, despite the knowledge that Jon is fully capable of standing, because maybe he needs other support or he wants to hold his hand or something. It's fine. "It's one thing to be out here and another to just be-- standing around when there's plenty of places to sit. We could go over to the bay, if you like? Look at the water?"

At this point, anything that isn't fire related is probably best, and at least at the forefront of Martin's mind. "And I mean, if you don't want to walk, I can try and help with that too."

He doesn't actually know if he can carry Jon, to be fair. But like... would he try it? Absolutely. Does he actually think he can? Mmmmm who knows.

"Chicago. County General. It's an inner city hospital. Busy place, lots of chaos. We had blackouts a few times. Pathogen outbreaks. Explosions. Gangs shooting up the place. Riots. But it was still nothing like this."

He huffs a laugh, leaning back against the wall, enjoying the feeling of something being there to steady him even if he can't see it.

"You know, you think you've seen it all? And then all this happens."

"I visited Chicago once. Lovely city." Could have done without the kidnapping.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the feeling. Magic and monsters and fear, it's a lot to take in. But it sounds like you're used to dealing with emergencies and keeping a clear head."

The thought of being carried by Martin is... not entirely unpleasant. If they were at home at least. But out here, where anyone can see? Some part of him that still cares about propriety... and about seeming unprofessional and weak, balks at it.

"Fine. Let's head over to the waterfront," he says, and sets off walking as quickly as he can manage. It doesn't take long for the pain to start again but he keeps moving despite it.

"I guess I have that going for me, yeah."

Carter sighs and covers his eyes. It doesn't change anything about the blackness but he can pretend he's the one causing it, some fake semblance of control.

"So what about you?"

To be totally fair, Aelwyn hadn't 'told' Beau it was Jon as much as said 'I have a plan that doesn't involve you punching the truth out of someone' and she saw them together during the operation. As far as she figures, if Jon could supplement or do whatever it is she can for that, he's got to have something going on.

"I'm just gonna start by saying I don't have an interest in ratting you out to ADI or whatever. All I want is some answers." Maybe that'll put them on better terms- or at least equal ones. "I'm not a magic person, okay? I've never been a magic person, or a god person. I punch stuff, and I'm good enough to punch things that most people don't punch. But I talked to Fenix, and he said something with... something about my eyes not being right. Like they were hurting him more than my hands."

She sighs, matching eyes with him again. "You're a smart guy. I think you know a lot about these Entities. And I think by knowing a lot, we're just becoming targets."

"They're not gods," Jon says flatly. "Just... things that exist in a different way to us." And that feed off them. And maybe were created by humans? He still doesn't know for sure. He doesn't think they know for sure.

He gives her a sharp look when she mentions eyes, a searching look that seems heavier than it should, like suddenly she's being watched from all directions. And then he sighs.

"I suspect you've been touched by the Eye. The Beholding. I would very much recommend not going further down that path."

Jon startles, and finally, finally manages to tear his gaze away from the computer. It's hard, and he can feel it at the edge of his consciousness, a compulsion that he is all too familiar with.

He takes a shaky breath. "Ah- a very bad choice?"

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 6

Heart of Darkness [Open]

recovery :v

recovery, town!

no subject

Recovery - Town Hungry Eyes

Re: recovery, town!

training wheels off

Well Read

Re: training wheels off

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: Recovery - Town Hungry Eyes

no subject

Well read

Re: Well Read

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: Well read