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 Posted: Wed Feb 10, 2016 1:16 pm
Life had been pretty calm. With the snow, there was less work to go around, and while Rodney would usually have spent the time on carving, he found himself spending it with Jan and Melvin instead. He still didn't know why they'd asked him to be their roommate. Jan said they used to have someone, who was...gone.
Melvin spent a lot of time in his bed, or in the dark. Jan was, as always, polite and kind. But he wasn't eating, and it often seemed like his thoughts were elsewhere. He wrote pages of music he could no longer play.
Rodney counted his blessings, the same as he had in the basement. He was warm, he was dry, he was safe. He thanked God that Jan had gotten home safely, and asked that Melvin would be able to receive comfort.
Seven never prayed with him, although the gargoyle bubbled in the background, and added a gravely 'amen' at the end.
Gargoyles, Rodney guessed, were at home in churches. And his body was a church, after a fashion.
Maybe I'm just being polite, Seven answered grudgingly. I can be polite too.
But lately, an idea had been stirring between both of them. And with all the extra free time...
Rodney peeked into the living room, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. Melvin was out, but Jan was in, enjoying the time off.
"Hi, Jan," Rodney said, "We were heading over to the life labs. Did you want to come meet Seven?"
Lawrence had not been his usual self lately, even by his normally fragmented sense of self worth and he had no idea how to repair the situation. He had become more and more fixated on the single casual conversation between himself and Rodney a few weeks previously and it haunted him every day. The idea that one lost part of oneself simply by sleeping with someone else was a harrowing thing indeed and had left Lawr wondering if it was statistically possible to kill everyone he had ever slept with to get those lost parts back.
Mercifully, he concluded it was not. What this did however leave him with was the gnawing idea of imperfection, that he had lost something of himself that he could not easily retrieve and that by virtue of being incomplete and that he could not be perfect. His very foundation of self was slowly crumbling around him and it was concerning to say the least.
All of this was of course in addition to various other factors which had been slowly tormenting him of late and forcing him to exert even more control over his life and routine than usual, attempts at control which were taking their toll in no small way on him physically. He looked tireder than usual ( even in the afternoons ) and with the shadows under his eyes more deeply set. Shivering - which he often did given the present temperature of Deus - all the more common than ever.
When Rodney spoke to him he was poring over another page of sheet music, written out in his perfect, neat hand and untitled. He looked up and it seemed to take a moment to register what was being asked.
“Oh?” he said, and then when his thoughts caught up with what was potentially meant by the question (excluding the implication of a spar of course) he added. “The labs? Are you going to test a golem?”
And this of course set Butch into an absolute frenzy of slavering excitement.
“Certainly.” he said, and leaning to add the last stop on the music, he stood and set aside his things.
Rodney smiled. Sometimes he needed a break from his work too. "Yes," Rodney answered softly, "Seven and I thought we'd try it. ...Let me get my coat." Under it, Rodney wore his usual worn and gray clothes. He had also fetched his scarf, but it lay untied over his shoulders. He fumbled with the zip, looking to see if Jan had dressed warmer than when they had spent the day in the snow
Lawrence took his time, not out of spite, but simply because he always took things at a rather unhurried pace. He donned his hunter coat but did not dress overly warmly, rather resigned to how cold it would be outside and aware it was likely only a short walk to the labs.
“It should be interesting.” he said.
“I am not certain it would be wise to permit Butch access to a golem.”
The follow up whine was tragic.
"You don't have anything warmer?" Rodney asked, watching as Lawr pulled on their uniform.
He finished zipping his coat, and stepped closer, tugging the scarf off his own neck. He held the strange and shimmery fabric for a moment. The runic beads made it heavy, and glittered like stars. He wasn't even sure if this was the way the magic worked.
"Here," Rodney said, moving slowly and gently placing it over Lawr's head, and around his shoulders instead. He was still touching the ends of the scarf, hovering before tying it.
"Would Butch like to? I'd like to meet him, too."
Lawr couldn’t help but look a little surprised at Rodney’s comment, quirking a brow at the other man as he asked about what clothes he had. It took him a moment to realise that it was actually concern rather than mockery, more used to the latter than the former. “I didn’t think..” he said, but found himself dressed in the magical scarf the other man possessed - and come to think of it, he found himself thinking, where HAD he gotten it?
He only realised that he had forgotten entirely to breathe when the scarf was tied neatly about his neck, even the contact and movement of the fabric an almost intolerable feeling against his sensitive skin. There was a moment, brief but nevertheless present where he realised he could just reach out and -
No.
When the magic took effect there was nothing subtle about the outfit it conjured for him, closer to the sort of thing one might wear when cosplaying to an actual outfit. There were a few words which could be used to describe it but some of those words were elven, divine and utterly over the top. Raising his hand to touch the scarf which was now nestled amongst ermine trim, there was a jingle of gold and silk.
He didn’t know how to react, for the moment freezing dead in his tracks. Who was he? Who WAS this person? Which persona was this? He felt as if the scarf had torn off his skin and left him vulnerable and naked at the same time as it dressed him in lavish finery. He felt the room spin around him and in a reaction he didn’t expect, almost passed out entirely, reaching for Rodney out of sheer reflex as his knees went weak.
Butch meanwhile was whining and concerned about his master but also very fixated on getting into a golem and torn between both of these all too tempting things.
The moment was brief and as soon as Lawr pulled together his composure, he stood again, apologetic and uncertain, his voice for a moment lapsing into an accent far more regional and incomprehensible than his pristine enunciated English.
“Sorry.” he said, coarse and rough. “I just...just gimme a moment. Surprised me is all, it’s nowt.” And in a single breath seemed to reorient himself due Lawrence. “I forgot it did that.” he said, evidently back to normal. “Ahaha, can I even go out like this?”
Rodney held Lawr's arms as his knees gave, normally soft touch sturdy.
"Sorry," Rodney said back, turning red down past his turtleneck. Whatever else could be said about the scarf, the resulting outfit was always just the right temperature. It would probably be just the right style, if either of them had been a visiting fairy dignitary.
The accent that Lawr had started his apology off made Rodney smile shyly.
"You're really good at those. I know the scarf's...dramatic. But it's warm, right?" Rodney drew his hands back once Lawr was steady on his feet again, but he didn't pull away. "You okay?"
Lawrence tried not to think about the accent, in fact he tried not to think about anything. No past life, no previous him, no personas long retired to disuse. It was at the very least easy for him to slam the door on things he did not consider part of who he presently was, so out it went, out all of it went. He was Lawrence. Lawrence in an unusual outfit Rodney had given him. Free things. He was warm. That was all that mattered. That was all. He felt nauseous, more nauseous than usual.
“Dramatic.” he said slightly weakly, before smiling again. “Oh well I think I could handle dramatic at least, drama flows in my very veins, or did once upon a time.” He seemed to have decided that it was all a good laugh and the moment of fragile weakness - and the lightness of his frame now set back upright on its own strength - gone entirely in much the same way the splinter of persona was.
“Thank you for loaning me it.” he went on. “I feel prepared to face anything at all let alone the elements.”
Adjusting his collar a little, he nodded serenely. “I rather like it. And perhaps, if Butch is pleasant and quiet then he will be rewarded with a little time in a golem.”
The silence which followed was its own reply.
Rodney did not return the laugh, looking concerned instead. For a second, he considered suggesting waiting on the sofa for a little while, but...
He looked at Lawr's determined smile. Rodney had the feeling he'd wave it off.
"You're welcome," Rodney said softly, delaying the trip and making sure Lawr had time to recover with a different excuse, "...Did you want to see it?"
Lawrence shook his head. “No, no. It is fine. I’ll see it later on I am sure.” It was to his credit that he managed to mask the kneejerk briskness in his voice. The last thing he wanted to do was look any longer at himself dressed in another outfit, pushing against the boundaries of what he normally had to deal with.
“Butch is being good and that normally does not last very long. If you want to see him in a golem I imagine it is likely best that we go with due haste before he gives me reason to be stern with him and ruin his fun. I am not cruel, you simply need to be consistent with animals you understand, for their own welfare.”
"Alright," Rodney conceded, putting his hands in his pockets. Too stubborn even for that.
Let's get this show in the road, Seven said, I don't even remember what having claws is like.
"Let me know if you...need to stop or anything." Jan was so good about looking after him and Melvin, but when it came to himself... "I mean, you've done so much for me..."
This, however was enough to get Lawr's attention again, and he gave Rodney an almost suspicious look, uncertain if he had somehow been insulted by the concern and the implication that he was weak or frail. His smile stayed warm but for a moment something cold and sad looked back from his striking eyes.
“It isn’t a problem, I no doubt will be fine when I get some fresh air.” he said. “Sometimes I get a little bit woozy when I am startled, it is no good on missions. Haha, like one of those fainting goats.”
He at least seemed to be whole and healthy when they headed out, no faltering in his stride and full of his normal almost dreamy positivity, commenting about how often it had snowed when he had lived in Sweden and discussing that he had heard there was a fine for damaging weapon golems and hoping that Seven was aware of this.
Rodney's return expression was nothing but sad and genuine worry.
He kept his hands in his pockets as they walked.
The last few winters in New York, Rodney thought the snow would never thaw.
"We discussed it," Rodney said, "That's why we haven't before. Seven thinks it's a scam, since they're paying you so little to try it, and then the costs are high if you break it. But, I think I'd be willing to do some extra shifts to do it, just once..."
“I am concerned that Butch will break the golem.” he said. “I do not want to make a dent in our budget because I misjudged my weapon. Nor..” and he looked rather forlorn “do I particularly - if I am entirely honest - want to see what lives in my head. Butch is...well. He is a special sort of weapon. Kept me awake for almost a month straight when I arrived. Took quite a while to teach him routine and manners.”
He looked little pale again. “I am not certain it is wise at all but if you think we could control him then perhaps it is worth trying.”
He did not seem to be fussed at the people who gave him confused looks as they passed in the labs, tuning them out entirely in a world which for the moment featured only Rodney.
"Well," Rodney started tentatively, "no roughhousing, Butch. You'll have to use a soft mouth. I am looking forward to talking with you, really."
Rodney looked worried again. "A whole month? Jan..."
Butch, much to Lawr’s surprise stayed silent, even when called by name and spoken to softly, normally both would have been a recipe for a tremendous flurry of barks and noise.
“It was fine, I am rather sturdy, it takes more than a little insomnia to harm me.” He wasn’t sure what to make of concern from Rodney, finding it more prying and acute than what he was used to. “I rest well now that I have dealt with his problems.”
It seemed strange to have Rodney call him Jan when around the other man he did not slip into his Jan persona often if ever. “You can call me Lawrence.” he said, as if giving a great gift to the other man. “I have made peace with the name of late. Melvin prefers Jan, so I do not correct him, but Lawrence is what I was called when I was born I suppose.” he smirked faintly.
“Lawrence Sandviken Weiman. Quite a mouthful frankly.” And it felt strange after so very long to say his full name out loud, like speaking of a dead friend long buried. “Just don’t call me Larry. Ever. Not that I expect you would be so crass as to.”
“All in all however, do not worry about me. And Butch for whatever reason seems to be genuine in his desire for this little treat, he hasn’t made a sound.”
"Oh I don't know," Rodney teased, "Larry sounds debonair. But okay. Lawrence." He had given Rodney that name when they first met, but at the time said he went by Jan on the island (Rodney found it odd he couldn't remember if He said he preferred it). They were, however, in the intelligence division.
"If Jan's your spy name, I can save it for dangerous situations. I know the island's not exactly...secure. I read the files on...O and everything." He looked nervously around the labs, keeping his voice low. Nobody even knew the name of the head of Life division. He hadn't even thought about it.
“Um, if it is something like that. …Thank you. For trusting me."
Rodney got nothing more than a very serious and certainly not joking stare for his comments about Larry. Lawr’s sense of humour wasn’t the most versatile part of his personality. “No.” he said. “It does not.” Mercifully whatever upset he seemed to have mustered at the name was set aside again just as swiftly afterwards. “In a sense, yes, Jan is my “spy name” and you are deserving of it.” he said, pleased with this mental image. Jan was not exactly a stealthy persona, designed to disarm others while making them feel superior, giving them a clear way to think they were dealing with a clumsy and eccentric fool. It was a ruse in a sense, so it felt appropriate to deem it such. Perhaps it would even aid in future he thought, if Rodney saw him acting differently around those who warranted it.
“Death division habits die hard.” he said. Even in life division now it’s hard to shake it.” He headed into the labs building. “And speaking of Life division...”
"Ah, so if you transfer, you give all that up." Rodney took a deep breath.
"Yes. Here we go."
He approached the counter, and found both him and Seven were kind of nervous about the whole process. He listened quietly and carefully to the instructions, liabilities, and what they could and could not do.
Yeah, yeah, dot the Is, cross the Ts, Seven said, listening a lot less carefully.
Rodney undid his hair from where it was tied with a small, rocky bracelet. He handed Seven over to the lab tech. He got slightly less time, and pay, then Lawrence for it, but that wasn't the real perk anyway. In his head, Seven lurking, monstrous, and tough.
Lawrence was not nervous about anything as a rule, but he was somewhat uncertain about what would happen if he put Butch into a golem. There was something essentially fractured about the ghost and it was easy to downplay the various irritations of sharing a head with him after so long. A lesser man might well have gone insane simply subjected to it. He had not. Still, he wasn’t certain what Rodney might think of someone who bonded to something like Butch nor what anyone else might think.
He sighed shallowly, nodding along with the usual warnings and when he handed over the shiny and glowing rolex watch - a feat of flexibility to unclasp with one hand - he found himself colder than he had been before. The old ache in his back, an ailment from before the island came back and let him know it was there and had just been waiting for him. He shivered slightly, even indoors and dressed in the strange magical finery of the scarf.
Waiting he was fully expecting the tech to come back and tell him it had not been possible, that the golem had melted or something else horrible had happened.
But suddenly, like a wire was severed, his head was silent for the first time in years, no rasping or whining and pleading. It was deafening, the kind of silence that pressed in on everything and suffocated. For a moment he wanted to turn and inexplicably run, to find noise and chaos and pain and hurt, to create to fill the balance that the loss of the weapon had created. It was the desire to organise objects turned up to a roar.
He quelled it only when he heard the rasp, rendered real and audible to everyone as the golem asserted itself into the shape and then it was followed up by a low, horrible scrape, then another, then another, and it sounded as if something dying was coming closer and closer.
Butch had normally floated, even in his humanoid shape, and bereft of that ability he moved like a twisted creature slowly dying, something pitiful and horrible which should never have been permitted to live, dragging his way tongue lolling sometimes through the stab wounds in his face, other times through the gaps in his part human part canine jaws. He panted but it was not the happy pant of an eager pet but the rasp of lungs half full of something straining against a diaphragm which should not have been functioning.
It was exactly as horrible as Lawrence had imagined, leaking a wispy something from its body and dragging twisted legs behind it with the force of long and lethally clawed paws. It looked up at him with peeled back lidless eyes and the sense of uncanny silence was replaced once again by the sensation his mind was a blank notepad being scribbled upon for ever.
Butch dragged himself towards Lawrence, (of course he did), the sound turning into a garbled snarl and whine which sounded - if one was familiar with it - like “MASTURRR”, even further distorted by the heavy Glaswegian accent it spat the words in. “AHM PURRE ******** REEEL. WE KIN BITE AN BITE AND BIDE.”
“Yes. You are. And no we cannot.” he said grimly sounding as tired as he felt and able to perfectly understand the drooling chainsaw rasp of the weapon’s speech.
"These things are expensive."
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2016 12:50 pm
In spite of the writhing mass of horror, Rodney seemed cheered, and his almost always gloomy expression brightened a little, as if Butch was a particularly charming pomeranian.
"Oh," Rodney sighed, "How handsome! I'm so glad to finally meet you."
It had been a lot of months since he'd even pet a dog. The fact was that what he saw, instead of a mess of injury, was a loyal partner and friend, who had been keeping Lawr safe. The other fact was that Rodney had done more ghost photography than he would be comfortable admitting.
"Wow, what a mess," Seven said, climbing irritably from their pod. They looked like the kid that Lawr would remember, with smooth stone skin and a nest of pigeon feathers for hair. They wore running shoes, and were on the small side, with thin horns and a tiny tail. "And I keep saying to him," Seven said, squinting a bit, "that you looked familiar, and he keeps saying it was some dumbass cat and mouse thing, but *I* wasn't there for that, see, and I'm thinking it's for a *different* reason."
Seven seemed to remember themselves, then wiped off their claw on their hoodie and offered it to Lawr warily, standing between the pair and Rodney. Seven looked briefly at Butch. "...I'm not going to ask you to shake. You look like you're using all your limbs as it is. I'm Seven."
Lawrence smiled cordially at Seven, in the moment realising who he was looking at and startled by the wiles of fate. “We /have/ met before.” he said. “I was the one who brought you here, who had you elevated to the status of weapon. I did not think it was you, Rodney describes you differently from the rambunctious youth I met before. You helped me you know.” he said, and fished out the strange necklace he wore regardless of persona, strung with runes and with a small bag attached in place of a pendant. “You helped me earn this. You likely do not remember though.” he shook Seven’s claw politely.
Butch rolled his blank eyes to look at Rodney and for a moment the raspy dragged breathing hitched. Lawrence also held his breath without realising he was even doing it. “You.” he said, strangely clear and lucid. “Yer the b***h master wants. Yer the broken wee ******** who wulnae lift their tail like the others. Yer a BAD DUG.” And he turned and began to drag himself in the direction of the other man. Lawr let go of Seven’s claw in case they were called to defend their own wielder.
“YE’VE ******** HIM AW UP.” Butch roared and followed up with a hail of phlegm and blood splattering coughs. “Tellin him LIES AND SHITE. He’s terrrr ‘in in two between you and that wan America! BAD DUGS YER AW BAD DUGS.”
He snapped at the air with a clack of vicious jaws, unable to reach Rodney from where he lay on the floor. “LEAVE MY MASTURR ALANE.”
He tried to drag himself further but found himself stopped with a firm boot pressed onto his spine. “Be quiet.” Lawrence said. “That is /rude/.”
Butch whined and tried vainly to roll onto his back to expose his underbelly.
Seven didn't exactly leap into action, sticking their claws back in their pockets and looking at Butch skeptically like somebody might watch slow-moving lava.
"Oh yeah? What, you mean...?" Seven looked at the pouch, then shook their head foggily. Seven remembered the light, grating sound of laughing stones, but not much else. They cleared their throat. "Okay, now, look, I don't remember my past too good, but," Seven lowered their voice, "if it was anything unsavory, I'd appreciate if you didn't mention it to Rod..."
Rodney, on the other hand, had all the blood drain from his face at the loud bark, and backed up quickly. He didn't keep his height advantage long, losing his footing on the linoleum. He was shaking so much it looked like he would literally fall apart. "Sorry," he shivered, automatically, about to burst into tears, "Sorry, please. Don't, I-" He covered his face, having a complete meltdown. Butch probably would have made his way to Rodney, eventually, if Lawr hadn't intervened.
Seven rolled their eyes and stepped over to pull Rodney up, brushing off his jacket. "Get a grip. You're fine, see? You could outrun him by walking."
Rodney clung to Seven like they were a brave fireman with a liferaft. Even though Seven was shorter, Rodney looked somehow smaller next to them. "S-Seven. Sorry. Sorry, I..." He looked to Seven gratefully, and although Seven was not what he expected, it was entirely less like looking at a ferocious guardian and much more like looking at a friend.
Seven patted Rodney's back. "Easy. He didn't get you, see? You're not got. ...Does that look like a dog that wants pet? No. Butch is a dog that wants to bite." Sorrow made an aside to Butch, "That was all he could think about on the way over here, scratching your dumb ears. Good way to lose a hand. ...No offense. And of course he wants to ********, alright? Sort of. He's just got...hang ups."
Rodney made a strangled noise, jarred from his trembling apologies. "*No*. No, that's not what I said!"
Lawrence sighed shallowly, as if the chaos around him was just a minor inconvenience. “I apologise Rodney, he is rather feisty as I warned you.”
Butch whined under his foot. “But ye’ve been no well lately ye’ve been aw weird an’ no right at aw. Good boy Butch. Im a good boay ahm tryin tae help I’m sorry ahm sorry ahm sorry.” And twisting he snapped at Lawrence, not connecting but once again baring his teeth and snapping at the air, frothing and aggressive. Lawr did not even glance at him for it, but nor did he let up. He was in control, at least until Sorrow commented specifically to Butch about Rodney.
This was enough to have him double take.
Butch cheered up and stopped whining and snarling, his ears popping to stand straight up as he barked at Seven. “DOES? DOES? HOWS HE NO DAEN IT. UNHANG HIM BRING HIM DOON.” And this was enough to send him off on a tangent into somewhere which was not so hinged on reality. “Bring em doon, doon by the watter, doon er where you kin get um wherra polis wulnae know they’urr err.”
Lawr was not pleased with Butch’s outbursts and was rather keen to move in another direction. “But yes, you should not pet him, that much is true. There is something not at all right about him.” But the smile on his face clearly was just a little smug and not at all related to the calm warning he was giving the other man.
“Ahm so hungry.” Butch said. “/We/ urr. For everythin’ an yer hunterr won’t come doon, wulnae come doon an play. We’re good boys. Good boay masturrr.”
"Look, everyone has...temptations, but that doesn't mean...that's not who you *are*. We all choose how we act. Jan...Lawrence knows..."
"Look, I'm just saying, which I've said before, that you could stand to loosen up a little." Seven looked over at Lawr skeptically. "Maybe not him. He can get kind of creepy. Again, no offense. Rod hasn't noticed, but I have. What about that Dawson guy? He's nice. You both like church, right?"
Rodney looked like he was going to disappear in his sweater. "I'm not interested in guys," he repeated for what felt like the hundrenth time. His whole face flushed, a little angry and not over the shock from earlier. He wiped his eyes, "If...if all you wanted to do was set me up, then maybe we shouldn't have done this in the first place..."
"I was just talking! Geez! Alright, here, damn, I'm glad to see you too," Seven said, giving Rodney an awkward side hug and patting his shoulder again, and looking embarrassed himself at all the crying.
"Come on...cut it out..." Seven looked over apologetically at Lawr and Butch. "He's just..." They gestured to all of Rodney.
Lawrence’s smile didn’t disappear at Seven’s comment, but something in it changed, a ripple like light reflected in a mirror, his stare was more intense and fixed and overall it felt just plain colder. Dawson. Yes, Dawson made sense, everything neat and tidy, like for like, human for human. It drove home the simple fact he was aware of all the time, that he fundamentally wasn’t human and that all he was capable of was predating them, or using them to sustain himself. He wasn’t like-for-like, his superiority set him apart and rendered him impossibly far from the people he spent time around.
Butch’s whines turned into a sharp yelp and Lawr stepped hurriedly off of him, pressing too hard as the cold icy tension crept into his body. His back hurt. He was superior but not perfect.
“I heartily apologise if I have ever come across as “creepy”.” he said, still smiling, but the smile distant and cold, like the faint blank smile of a marble statue looking off into some sculptor’s sense of enlightenment. “And do not get upset Rodney. I have /no/ intention of setting you up with anyone.”
Butch looked up at him and there was innocent stupidity in the huge empty eyes. “But ye said we’d get him. Whit aboot ‘eh puppees? ”
Lawrence flicked his gaze to Butch and the dog creature whined again and dragged itself instead of in the direction of him, away, wanting to hide behind Sorrow to escape the cold, cruel eyes and feeling the weight of the spiked choke chain about his body all the more intensely as he went.
Rodney flinched at the yelp of pain. "...Get?" he asked.
"Look pal, I don't know *what* your intentions are. You're super controlling and you lie a lot. I mean, to your credit, nothing's happened since he moved in and all, but..."
"No," Rodney interrupted, "no, I know he keeps things to himself a lot. Can we go somewhere else?"
They'd been getting a lot of looks between the artifact and the crying. Rodney had pulled his cap down almost to his nose.
Lawrence stayed cold and closed, feeling nauseous again and seizing hold of the sick feeling like it was a guard rail. “He speaks in riddles, disregard them.” he said. “It is all harmless noise.”
Sorrow received the same cordial look as before but the enthusiasm at remembering the creature and the curiosity at what implications meeting them had for celestial machinations and deja vu also slithered back into the void it had sprung from. “I am sorry.” he said, and some sharp and bitter part of him, just for once, almost meant it. “I will try harder to be accommodating and hospitable to your friend.”
He moved over to the dog creature and picked up his lead in his hand, half dragging him (with his obedient help) in the direction of the door.
As soon as he realised they were moving he started screaming WALKIES at the top of his ragged lungs. “Somewhere else it is.” Lawrence said.
"It's not about being accomodating, geez, you've *been* accomodating."
Rodney walked briskly behind Lawrence, preferring to be out in the snow than under the gaze of the entire laboratory work force. He seemed relieved by the time they stepped out into the cold.
Seven was busy clenching and unclenching their claws, and wiggling their fingers.
"Hey," Seven said, "hey, check this out." They stuck out their tongue and caught a snowflake.
After they had walked for a little while, and Butch hadn't tried to bite him again, Rodney seemed to be gaining better control himself.
"I think, we probably need to talk," he said.
The snow made Lawrence shiver again, even with the magical clothing and warmth his teeth chattered and he tucked his arms up under the fur as best he could, surprised by how painful ill fitting and old his human housing was without Butch in charge of it. Even his missing hand inexplicably ached in the cold, phantom pains and twinges being a fixture of the missing appendage.
Butch dragged himself through the shallow slushy snow and sometimes the thicker drifts, seeming to be having the time of his life and forgetting his aggression in favour of trying to eat snow and rolling around in it. Lawrence stopped and let him take a little bit of time to lunge around in a distressing manner and froth in what was most likely happiness.
“Really?” Lawr said in a politely surprised tone. “Ab-ab-about what exactly?”
"Are you still cold?" Rodney asked. ...Maybe it hadn't been the coat. "We can go somewhere with a heater. I just was...making a scene." He watched Butch roll happily in the snow. Was it like the ghost said, was it him who was making Lawr sick? He had been so aggressive. He'd wanted to...
Rodney shivered too, but not from the weather. He pushed the thought aside, so he didn't end up on the ground again. He tried to pick a place to start. There was a lot that...both of them had avoided talking about.
"Your old roommate, the one who lived with you before. They died, right?"
Lawrence found himself surprised at the swell of avoidance which bubbled up in him at the mention of the clone, tempted to simply say no and have it set as off limits. He found himself not wanting to talk about it, which was strange and new, but not cordial or polite.
“She did.” he said, trying to still the chattering of his teeth and ignoring the primal and animal part of his brain which told him to get somewhere warmer or to huddle against something which might keep him warm. Out here the only warm thing was Rodney and he was too perfect to touch and would crumble regardless like a wilting flower at contact. “She was not human.”
And he looked fixedly at Butch who was also not-human but yet was still here. There was no justice in any of it, there was no reason to kill a creature because it stemmed from the heart of something else and drew nourishment there. That was how babies worked and you maintained them until they were able to stand on their own. And she had been so close, so close to being something which could stand on its own, apart and yet a part of everything. And he couldn’t fit words around something so huge, nor around the gap in the world left by her.
“She died because she felt it was the right thing to do.” he said. “Because she felt as a creature which wasn’t human, she could afford to be lost.” The nausea returned and this time he wondered if it was related to the tight rigidness in his whole body, a feeling of restraint and restless anger which reached right down into the very pit of his gut and twisted it. And he found that looking at it, he missed her, he missed her everything and it sat side by side with the yawning nothing he was filled with and maybe that was where she still lived, part of the largest part of him, part of the place where he was told a heart should be.
“Dawson spoke to her.” he said and his breath came in shivers that were as close to sobs as his body was capable of, not from emotion but from ragged weariness. “He told her about humanity and worth. He told her about redemption and that she could be more. But it was lies, it was lies because in the end she died still thinking and knowing she wasn’t human.” He clenched his hand. “I just wanted her to find herself. That was all. Genuinely. I wanted to watch and not to interfere. I wanted to see if she could do it. She lived with me and then she lived with Melvin and I.”
He sighed. “In the end, she chose Dawson and became a hero, dying rather than...the alternative. And that is logically fine. Logically.” And he remembered America reminding him when he referred to humanity as mortals that something to do with that was why she had chosen the other man in the end. He had felt an uncomfortable twist at the time and still tolerated it now, not sure what to make of any of it.
“And now there is a hole in the world, I am not surprised you noticed it. Is there a reason you ask?”
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Posted: Fri Feb 12, 2016 3:16 pm
Rodney was surprised to hear Dawson's name involved with the story. All Rodney could feel in Lawrence's hollow despair was the same searching sadness he had heard in the piano pieces.
"It's not fine. There's not a difference," Rodney said. "It's...arrogance. People don't suffer more than any other creature. God gave us gifts. He tasked us with looking after the animals. But instead, we chose...death. Blood. Subjugation. It could have...it could have all been different."
Even now, that was the case. Even without eating animals, there was a whole different race that they had chosen to do the same thing to. Why did it have to be a weapon, for the bond to work?
"...S-sorry. Without a doubt, she was a person. Who was valuable. Everyone says animals don't have souls. Because then...what we do to them...it'd be, truly horrific. But..." he looked at Butch. "They say animals will be in heaven, too. It's all just a delusion. If...if you ever hear someone say, they aren't human. They're about to justify what...what they feel should be done to that person. And maybe...she justified it to herself...and maybe everyone else told her she was right."
Rodney shook his head, glad they had left, because he was starting to cry again. Everything felt like a mess.
"I asked because you've been cold, and sick, but you always smile and act like you aren't. You don't eat. I don't think you sleep much either. And you're one of the most...brilliant and talented people I've ever met, and I after my...after my brothers died it was the same for me, and I was worried ..."
Lawrence listened to Rodney with a careful and polite expression and considered every word with the meticulous and almost desperate attention of someone searching very hard for the truth.
“She was a clone.” he said. “Created by some sort of magic. There were others, based on someone else. They killed them all, as far as I am aware. Or almost all of them. She was the first I’d ever seen with a mind of her own. She was not created by god, so did she have a soul at all?”
He sighed and there was an air of a dancer moving nimbly to the front of a stage in the way he walked a few steps and turned to face Rodney, still shivering but in a strange justexposition of shivering and absolute bodily poise. “There are many on this island you will find, who say that I do not have a heart or soul either, that I am not human, and I have never come to any definitive conclusion whether they are right or wrong.”
He spread his hand as if unfurling some secret prize. “I find it difficult to comprehend emotion.” he said, looking at his hand. “At all. I am numbed always and completely to everything around me. And I suppose in some schools they might deem that a deficiency of something profound.”
He tapped his slender chest with his hand. “The guides and moral judgements which are supposed to be a god-given and inherent facet of the self, the ability to tell when something is “wrong” are all absent from me. It is why I enjoyed the art museum so considerably with you. To me it is all colour, all aesthetics and technique with no emotion. Everything is flat and grey.”
“I suppose I told some lies of omission in that respect and I understand if someone as deeply in tune with what is correct and good should want to find someone more fitting than I as a friend.”
And it was all avoidance, all of it was to avoid answering the question he did not have an answer for, which was the question of why he was trying so hard to regain control and potentially harming his human shell in the process. Still, he knew Rodney was persistent so he added. “With all that in mind,I am not grieving.”
"No!" Rodney said, "What...what does that even mean, of course she was created by God. She was *here*. In Psalms it says we were knitted together in the womb, not because...because he changed some part of the process, it just means...He was with us when we were made. He was with her when she was made. They've...they've been killing...*who's* been killing them?" Rodney's head was whirling. He seemed just as upset by Lawrence's confession that he was not human either, and he found himself clutching Lawrence's jacket. He was not thinking about Butch. Seven had been sort of restlessly jogging in place, thinking about how much they'd rather be going for a run instead of a walk. "No! No, no, no! Who told you that? It's wrong, it's just all wrong! You're a person too, you matter. He made you too, He gave you so many talents. You can do so much to change...to change *everything*."
His throat felt thick as Lawrence elaborated. *Explained* why he wasn't a person, really. Why he didn't matter.
"I know," Rodney confessed, still shaking from nerves and wet cheeks, "I know already, you don't feel everything the same. Everyone else is...is this storm of emotions and rough waters and you're...you're this calm...for me, it's a relief. Of course. Of course I still want to be your friend."
Lawr was very very cold, and even being seized by the coat was a moment of cutting wind blocked, a physical respite from the chill even if it didn’t stop him shivering. He eyed Rodney with the same bright curiosity he inspected everything that was relevant to him and found the other man’s emotions incomprehensible and dazzling. The thought that someone was crying over the rights of those who weren’t considered human for one reason or other was strange and there was an off kilter moment where there was a catharsis in seeing it.
Butch was enjoying the snow, watching them and hoping they’d be good masters, unconcerned about Lawr’s wellbeing and oblivious to the snow outside the hunter’s mind.
Lawr had almost hoped Rodney would have realised what he was dealing with, turned and left while he had the chance. He could have found something else, something far from him, but he hadn’t and there was a sort of inevitability in the thought that he would break the other man and one day it would be over.
He shivered again and this time wobbled slightly. “I would like to go back inside.” he said.
Turning to look back in the direction of the dorms, he spoke. “Taym’s clones were presumably killed by him. America had one and I just told you what happened to her. Somewhere out there, there might be ones like me, but I should imagine they would be more human, they certainly could not be less.” And it was easy to say, to justify it as his own divinity being impossible to replicate.
He laughed with just a hint of bitterness. “I just do not know what I’m supposed to be looking for, I tried money, I tried love, I tried power, I have tried control. What are you looking for?”
"How can you still say you're not human? I...just want to help. Instead of hurt. That's all." Rodney let go of Lawr as he turned to leave, "I don't want to be like..." he hesitated, "the people who hurt me. But it's difficult. Every day, everyone is always hurting...somebody. I still don't know if I'm doing the right things. We...we can go in. Where it's warm. Seven..."
"Yeah, yeah, into boring inside, got it, I'll just spend my one day of freedom on a sofa."
"Oh," Rodney said softly, "Well, if there was anything you wanted to do, then maybe..."
"I'll stick with you," Seven said. "I don't know if you'd last thirty seconds. And I'd just worry the whole time."
"Lawrence," Rodney started softly, "this whole time, when you've been going to Russia. The person who runs that base. She was the person the clone came from?"
Lawr didn’t speak, instead he went and retrieved Butch’s chain again and led the complaining and whining weapon along with them.
“BUT WALKIES?” Butch said, before just obediently deciding that inside smelled interesting too.
It was only after a long pause of silence that Lawr finally said. “Yes. America is in charge of the Svetloyar base.”
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Posted: Sat Feb 13, 2016 3:34 am
"I don't know if someone with no feelings would...do the same. You're...like you said, searching. For something. If...there's anything you need, let me know."
Rodney fiddled with his sweater sleeves.
“And…I know this is a different topic, but. You and Melvin are...together?"
“Curiosity is not a feeling, I think.” he stated. “But yes, I like to think that when I find whatever it is well..” he didn’t elaborate that when he found what he was looking for he fully expected to become a super-human and god-like creature with mastery over emotions but subject to none of them. He did not feel even with his limited sense of self awareness that this would go down very well.
Rodney got a slightly hunted look for his question and Lawrence could practically smell the complexities on the air around it. It tied straight back also to the horrible concept that somehow he lost parts of himself in relationships. Saying that yes they were together would be admitting just another loss and would only make him seem lesser, it would only offend Rodney or make him feel he was intruding.
And from a strictly selfish point of view, it would also make it harder to get the man to sleep with him, which was - all considered - a bit of a goal. Still, even with this, even with the prospective self-interested goal to aim for, he couldn’t lie to Rodney’s face, aware that Melvin was not good at secrets and at some point the obvious hints would be undeniable.
“That depends on how you define it.” he said. “In a sexual sense, yes. It is long and complex and related to his ex-girlfriend who died and his grieving process. I hope that does not make you uncomfortable.”
"No. It's okay," Rodney said, red again. "Was she...more than just a roommate, too?"
Lawrence closed his eyes and exhaled. “Yes, more than just a roommate, if by that you meant did we sleep together. It landed me in the infirmary in fact because fear does not function well with human bodies. After that no. But it is probably safe to say that most individuals with any proximity to me in my life I have had relations with.” He shook his head. “It is why it is so ...concerning to have you tell me that every single one of those people was some sort of loss.”
"I don't think it's right for you to do," Rodney said honestly, as they got closer to the building. "I guess...I needed to talk to you about that too."
Lawrence didn’t like being “talked to”, it reminded him of being in trouble and he had resented adults telling him what to do as a child so much that he had from there onwards done everything he could to avoid getting caught and put in a situation where he had to be addressed about anything. On the island there was no such luxury but the same stirrings of a desire to walk away, to just yank Butch away from Rodney and simply end the conversation there raised their head. He resisted but the coolness of his tone was audible. “I will advise you I do not tolerate being scolded for decisions I have made.”
Rodney looked surprised. "Not about you. Just about...me."
Lawr quirked a brow slightly, mildly concerned this was going to end in more crying. Butch by his feet licked his shoe and drooled strange ectoplasm onto it which he ignored.
“Well you are certainly free to talk, I am not used to boring people with my life’s details.” He picked up his pace a little to get back into the dormitories, pausing once in the warm to try to rub some of the life back into his body. He nodded in the direction of the dorm room. “But I likewise have no interest in prying, you get upset easily and enough people take advantage of that without me also doing so.” It was simpler to press on and ignore the doubts. Still, he irritably added. “The body has needs. We aren’t all capable of asceticism.”
Rodney rubbed his arm. "Sorry. I don't have to, I guess. Sorry for prying."
Lawr stopped in his tracks, Butch not expecting it and walking right into the chain with a surprised strangled sound and a growl. He did not much like people saying sorry to him, or backing out of something they said they would do. It always made him restless and unhappy, going against his sense of completeness. “Did I say something wrong?” he said, fixedly. “I feel like I said something wrong.”
"You said I was...prying and easily upset, and that you weren't interested. Which is...okay." He wasn't sure why he had pried in the first place. He thought they were talking out some important things together. But he guessed Lawrence had seen it as one-sided.
Lawr did not move for a time before he picked up once again at pace in the direction of the dormitory “I said none of those things. I said I did not seek to pry into business you did not wish to speak of. If I had chosen not to speak of what we discussed and you pressed, that would be prying. You did not pry. I was being polite. Nor did I say I was not interested. I am nothing if not curious.” But he did once again feel his short temper tested by the uncertainty. “I will not ask a third time, because that /would/ be prying. Tell what you will.”
Rodney held the door for Seven. "Okay. ...Maybe we should have headed to the bar. I'm...I'm sorry I'm all over the place. But I'm glad...I didn't want to pry."
He waited until nobody was in the hallway to talk.
"It's not that I'm not..." his voice got smaller, "attracted. To men. Or...you."
"Ah-HAH!" Seven said.
"But it's...prohibited. I don't understand the reasoning. I did want to get married. Some day. And...have a family. But I don't think any of that's...ever going to happen."
Butch kept the pace somewhat slow, even used to his body, he dragged and rasped and found it difficult to move with any efficiency. He placatorily licked Lawr whenever he could, mostly he focused on the smells in the carpet and on the air.
Lawrence was wondering for a moment what he’d done to deserve to be tried so, but it lasted only a moment before he remembered that there was quite a lot he’d done which had probably earned him being tormented by a man like this. /Especially/ a man like this.
“Prohibited?” he asked, raising a brow. “Are you referring to the skewed reading of the bible or something more substantial?”
The mention of family only made him a little more brisk. “I have wine. It is not bar fare alcohol but is just as fit for purpose.”
Of course Rodney was attracted to him he thought, perfection was tempting. “I enjoy family.” he said, a little quieter. “This is simply not the place for it, not in the sense of children. If anything, irresponsible procreation here can kill. If anything the alternative is marginally safer.”
"Yes. Biblically. Some wine would be great," Rodney said, meaning it. "And...I know." He looked pale. "I mean, you're right. They couldn't come here. And the idea of casual...I mean, just, with some stranger, or meeting with someone for that *off*-island," He looked even paler. "I'm not even sure if I could. With...a girl. But before I always thought if I just...found the right person. Then it would all fall into place."
Lawr nodded. “I can tell you that marriage is not a magic spell, it does not fix problems and what you often think is the right person is not. My first wife left, without warning, when I thought things were more or less happy. People are not predictable. I tried again and then I gave up for then on it all. It was not tenable.” Back at the room now, he poured them both a glass of wine and then took an absolutely miniscule sip of his own. “Off island you place them in danger simply by being around them any way, I would not think you would approve of it.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I could give you advice on any of this, but obviously it has been made clear already how dubious my history is from a biblical perspective. All that I can tell you is that I do not agree with the biblical stance on homosexuality obviously. I expect that is predictable however, since you likely think me some manner of heathen given the fact I presently live with Melvin.”
Rodney took his glass gratefully and began to take a much larger drink, but paused when he noticed a complex taste and smooth lack of alcoholic burn. He could not identify the wine, but he knew enough to know it tasted...expensive. He slowed to a guilty drink, and let it melt in his mouth a little while. Cheap would have been okay. But whatever this was, was divine.
And it helped with his nerves.
"Ahh. Thank you. This is...really good. I don't know how I feel about it. I know what the Bible says. I don't think relationships should be...frivolous. It's a way for people to end up hurt. Melvin's happier. When you're here. I...can't tell with you." It wasn't as if Rodney was naive. All his friends had been in the art community. Ideas about gender, and sexuality, and etc. were very different in New York than the South. "Are you...exclusive?"
Lawrence moved to sit on the couch, letting go of Butch’s leash, the weapon promptly shoving his head into Lawr’s bony lap and awaiting the idle pets which actually did come. He watched Butch but unseeingly, off in his thoughts as he considered what to say, there was always the two paths he could take, one set on getting what he wanted, paved with lies to butter the other man up, the other with honesty which he did not like at all. With anyone else he’d have taken the obvious route, but Rodney he knew had a good sense for when he was being lied to and one sniffed out lie would unravel all of it. He was playing a game he did not really understand.
“I am glad that you think he is happier. So do I.” Melvin being fixated on Rin and her memory, locked outside of grieving had felt wrong, a slanted pictureframe which needed to be set right. He’d done what he could to fix it, and of course being who he was, had taken whatever he wanted along the way as payment for his generosity. “He could not let go of his ex-girlfriend and now he has, or at least is within the grieving process. That was what I wanted most.”
“Exclusive?” he said. “No. Not really. It is something which has not been overly discussed, but Melvin is fairly indifferent to what I do or how I spend my time. I am not concerned it would hurt him. I think he understands sometimes or most of the time it is easier for me to go with the metaphorical flow than to be rude or resistant.”
He did not take another sip of his own wine but gestured to it. “You can have mine if you like also.”
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