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 Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2015 9:28 am
Occurs after Is it Better to be Feared? and Or is it Better to be Loved? by 3 days.Lorne didn’t know what he’d expected from that night - he hadn’t really been patrolling much on his own, not since Xenotime, and so his intention had been to study. Midterms hadn’t gone exactly the way he’d hoped they would - a lot of the concepts just flew right over his head, and he’d missed class a lot more than he’d wanted to, between Archer, all the battles, that night in the hospital, and just a general lack of focus he wasn’t super proud of. He’d been distracted, that was for sure.
And maybe he was having a hard time admitting he was simply struggling with the material, too. - but that wasn’t really the issue here. None of his intentions mattered in the slightest when he got the call, and he nearly fumbled and dropped the phone entirely when he realized who it was and why they were calling.
Everything was kind of a whirlwind after that. He abandoned the books in a heap on the floor and bustled quickly around his apartment, making his bed real quick and straightening up a little before he took a cab straight to the hospital.
The paperwork took a little bit, along with getting all the aftercare materials - but finally, in what felt like the blink of an eye, he had gotten Isaiah into another cab with him and gotten him back to his and Kyle’s apartment, right back where they’d started. From the cab to the apartment itself, he’d had to carry him - not that it was hard. Isaiah weighed practically nothing in his arms, and Lorne was realizing then more than ever how light his fellow knight actually was.
It’d been no effort at all to tuck him into the bed, although Lorne’s breath shook as he looked him over, his ever-expressive yellow eyes a little extra vivid through the rings of purple still around his eyes. Fading at the edges, but still rather giving him the appearance of a raccoon. Likewise, there was still a bandage stretched across his nose.
“Isaiah?” he tried gently, sliding fingers through his hair. “Can I get you anything? - or do anything?” How are you feeling seemed like a downright silly question, so he didn’t even bother going there.Were he anyone other than himself, Isaiah would’ve come from the hospital stoned out of his mind. Likely morphine, perhaps sent home with percocet or valium, and strung out so far beyond comprehending reality that he would’ve occasionally slipped into minute opiate dreams. He would’ve known no pain, but he would’ve known no reality either.
But Isaiah damned his chances at opiate analgesics long ago, and out of a thinning dedication to himself, notified the hospital staff of his past practices. During his stay, he knew only ibuprofen or acetaminophen to sooth only meagerly the tumultuous pain, but his teeth itched from gritting them together for minutes at a time. His jaw ached, his fingers throbbed with the waves of weakness from such adverse conditions, and his leg jarred him with such an intense agony that carrying him proved immensely complicated. The bruisings taken throughout the battle had mottled to their telltale purpling, matching Lorne’s eyes in the least flattering manner, but their pains proved only lukewarm to his leg’s boiling.
Isaiah knew it as the kind of pain that caused his spit to taste alkaline, that nauseated him. He sat up only loosely, propped on pillows from the bed. He looked exhausted in a manner he did not often exhibit.
Groaning, Isaiah pressed the cool heels of his hands to his eyes. He started to laugh. “I feel bad. I haven’t showered since I’ve been stuck in the hospital. My hair has to be repulsive.” Along with the rest of him, he figured - wasted from days of stabilization care, lack of appetite, and need for healing. But the gesture was, beyond his considerations for Lorne’s disgust, well-received to the point of needed.
Tiredly he peeked beyond one hand to look over his friend. “I could use some ice. A lot of ice. These staples feel awful.
“And my cat. Someone needs to feed her…” Isaiah sighed to himself. “Can you get my cell phone? I think I know who I can get to feed her.” Olga acted willing for nearly every type of assignment, and while it was an unorthodox request, she had the farm experience to know how to treat animals.Lorne took in each of Isaiah’s requests with a slow nod, and when his friend looked at him, he would meet nothing but patient worry in those yellow eyes. Two out of three of those things were easily taken care of. “Absolutely; I’ll go get your phone right now, and then I’ll see about getting your ice,” a lot of ice. There was a convenience store hardly a stone’s throw from the apartment building, shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to go grab a bag of it nice and quickly. Should be more than enough, at least for get Isaiah through the night.
As for the first thing. His cheeks burned mildly, although he tried to pretend they weren’t. “Are you able to get your leg wet, yet? - I could either see about, uhm, helping you in the shower or we could wash your hair in the sink and see what we can do from there?” In his own mild, Lorne-speak sort of way: shall I help you in the shower, or are we going the spongebath route? If he was going to be taking care of Isaiah, that was sort of part of it too.
Either way, he didn’t want for an answer right off; instead he went and did the thing where he grabbed Isaiah’s phone, coming back moments later to helpfully hold it out to him with a smile.Lorne left, presumably to fetch his cell, and Isaiah used the temporary solitude to check over the wounds. Carefully he peeled his hospital pants down, growing ever wary of the elastic band slipping out of his hand and cracking one of the stapled lacerations. Once the cloth settled around his knees, he slowly tugged at the bandages to see how much of a glance he could get toward the injury.
Iodine stains spread out beyond the gauze. More pads were packed beneath the rolls, and beneath that, he caught the telltale shine of a staple. When he peeled a corner of the pad back, he saw the top of the wound beneath a strange shiny overlay - presumably a sealant to prevent infection. Isaiah hissed through his teeth before he abated his investigation. The wounds still looked heinous, felt worse than they appeared, and threatened to send him into cold sweats if he didn’t keep himself dosed with some sort of analgesic every four hours. Any bath involving that leg looked like grim prospects.
When Lorne returned, he accepted the cell phone gratefully. “I just checked - I don’t think I can take a bath yet. The discharge paperwork should be in the bag with my clothes.” Which reminded him of how he hated the billowing, unflattering sacks known as hospital gowns. Still, he needed to put up with it lest he exact further damage with too-tight pants.
“Don’t you live with your cousin? Is this going to be a problem? Wait, you visit Nadia often too, right? I can just go back to my condo and get a nurse; I’m sure I’ve met one before…” Isaiah started through his contacts list, scrolled through a plethora of names, and hovered over Olga momentarily. Finally he opened the message and started a quick text to her regarding the state of affairs for his feline. He would wait to send it; hearing Lorne’s answer concerning whether he could stay took precedent.Again, Lorne nodded along at what Isaiah was telling him, flashing him a slight smile. “Don’t worry; we’ll, uhm, get you clean another way then, soon; once you’ve rested a little, I mean,” he promised him, ghosting fingers warmly over the bony ridge of his friend’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. Anything it took, he promised himself quietly. He might not be much of any good for combat, that was true, but… at least he could try and do things like this. Yes, he was a student, a college student, but really, of the team, he was most able to devote the time to be able to give Isaiah the care he’d need. Nadia and Colin both had careers, Auguste was also busy, and -
-maybe more to the point, he wanted to do this. Maybe it was a little silly, but - there was a part of him that was delighted, stupidly, that of all people that Isaiah could have called, it was him. He wanted to be there for his friend. He wanted to help him. He wanted to take care of him. “I’ll check through the papers again; they explained a bit to me at the hospital, but you know how they are, this big rush all at once,” he murmured, fidgeting with the ends of his - now Isaiah’s - blankets to make sure they were properly covering him.
Lorne shook his head quickly at the uncertainty from Isaiah, flashing him a soft smile. “Don’t even worry about it. Kyle’s been spending more time with his boyfriend than here lately, and even if he were here, it wouldn’t be a problem - and you know Nadia will come and dote on you once she hears what’s happened,” he coaxed warmly. “I mean, unless you’d feel better with a nurse, but really - I want to help you, Isaiah, and you’re more than welcome here. Any time.” It didn’t just have to be with staples in his leg, either.
With a rush of color to his cheeks, he moved to grab his wallet and keys. “Anyway, I’ll go see about that ice real quick - are you hungry? Thirsty? Is there anything else I can get you? The store’s right across the way, so I shouldn’t be long.”The shoulder squeeze drew a pained expression from Isaiah. He felt the bone move bitterly against inflamed muscle. He couldn’t remember injuring it; much of that night was lost to a feverdream of violent slashes. He hardly recalled reaching the hospital.
Lorne’s aversion to the gauze entertained him somewhat; the man even drew covers over him to avoid looking at the wounds - or that was what Isaiah expected of him. “I don’t think a nurse would be as useful. I assume it’s difficult to talk to the uninvolved about your powered life - if they aren’t already in with the Negaverse to sell you out, then I suppose they’ll just consider you crazy. Like being stuck between a rock and a hard place, isn’t it…” Isaiah sighed, and sunk into the pillows. His withered frame bespoke wasting, and fell away into the plush goose down. “No, I think you were the best choice to make.” Though it pained him to need to make that choice - he only received a small reprieve from the hospital for the catheter. Here, he would have no such device - he simply needed to call Lorne every two hours or so for every bodily need possible.
Isaiah pressed the send key on his cell phone and afterward thrust it up beneath the pillows. He looked to Lorne after, studying him, taking in the strip of bandage across nose and the bruising around the eyes. “I’ll be fine. Gatorade for later, though. Electrolytes are a pesky business. I’ll tell you what happened after you return.”
Afterward he sighed and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. He looked to the ceiling, glancing over the myriad textures dotting its surface. He remembered looking to a ceiling like it as a child, and searching for animal faces or symbols of mythical beasts. Even now he checked for some kind of idle sign brought by his own subconsciousness, and found little.
I suppose Scholomance will still expect me to power up. I wonder if the cane was providence or duplicitous.A pang of guilt churned in Lorne’s gut when he saw the wince flash across his friend’s features, uttering a soft apology and gently ghosting his fingers again over the surface again as though that somehow soothed any damage he’d just done.
Aversion, yes - Lorne was trying, had been ever since he’d first dealt with Auguste’s wounds after his mishap with Amphitrite. Blood and gore did not appeal to him, much less anything remotely resembling death. But this was something he knew he was able to overcome with enough sheer willpower, his desire to help much more than his fear of mortality. The best choice to make - “I will do my best, then,” and it was a promise. He would not let his friend down. If this was the one thing he could do for anyone, then he would not, could not fail.
He nodded along, again, resolutely, and made it a point to take the remote and place it beside Isaiah’s pillows - “I don’t know if you’re tired or you’d like to watch something or - you can get to Netflix through here if you like,” he explained quickly, because even if he’d only be a few minutes, it was bound to be something Isaiah was going to need in the days to come anyway. “I really won’t be long,” he promised before vanishing from sight, the door closing quietly after him.
True to his word, he’d all but run to the store and back, a bag of ice in one hand and a bag containing several flavors of Gatorade in the other, just in case. He set up an ice pack and bought that and one of the Gatorades back in with him, calling a tentative, “Isaiah?” into the room before setting foot inside - if he’d fallen asleep, he didn’t especially want to wake him.Isaiah found little interest in the remote after Lorne left. The hospital maintained a perpetual hustle and bustle that drained him; he counted himself lucky to hear little more than light activity outside. The pain tired him more than the ordeal of coming to Lorne’s apartment. He imagined that victims of energy draining felt much the same. They must, he told himself, for he felt far too exhausted to keep awake.
So he slept. And he slept not long, for Lorne returned in his own quiet manner, and Isaiah stirred to the company. Hazel eyes cracked open with minimal effort and peered out past heavy lids. A lone grocery bag remained in one hand, and a bag of ice in the other. Drawing a deep breath, he addressed the taller boy. “Did you bring baggies for the ice? And towels?” He imagined Lorne did - or he hoped, for Lorne had been a member of this war for longer than he, and likely knew the damages incurred. Isaiah was only now finding out.
“Thanks for everything. It’s a lot to ask of someone who’s already very busy.” He reminded himself to ask if Lorne made further progress with his wonder - if he discovered the reason behind the names, or learned more of the vision he witnessed. A reincarnated knight, Isaiah imagined - if Hvergelmir was not the only one. They would know very different experiences with one another. Those experiences sparked far more interest in Isaiah than recounting how he came to be the very vision of Frankenstein.
“So what do you think? Catch up first, or learn how Scholomance almost died on a whim?” Isaiah adjusted himself vaguely, shifting back and hauling his leg very tentatively upward an inch. The teeth closing the maws reminded him of their presence. He loathed it for its restrictive reminders.Lorne nodded along with the checklist of items, baggies and towels, yes - his knowledge of first-aid was still basic at best, but having to hit the ground running with it did wonders for retention. Honestly, he’d been putting more time into researching things like that than he had studying, which was both good and bad.
“Please. It’s really no problem, “ he said as he crossed the room, sitting tentatively at the edge of the bed to better prepare the ice for Isaiah. His fingers had a slight tremor to them, as always, although he was doing his best to steel himself, worrying his lower lip determinedly between his teeth.
He shook his head lightly, hair falling messily across his face, easily remedied by a light toss of his head. “Catching up can wait,” he said in his soft, warm way, and really, did Isaiah ever expect a different answer from him? Finally, he offered the ice to his friend - unsure whether he’d prefer Lorne to do it or not, but not wanting to do anything that might hurt him, either. It was a tricky situation like that. He wanted to help, but sometimes helping meant harming a little in the process. “What happened to you?”Isaiah received each of the bags carefully and piled them up next to his waist (waste?). He peeled the covers back, opened his hospital gown, and grimaced at his own cadaverous size. The hospital left him wasting, he knew, but not to the degree of it. Weakened muscles rippled visibly over prominent bones as he leaned forward to attend to the most grievous injuries first. A bag was carefully nestled against one stapled laceration, then another, and another pair of bags found their place further down on his leg. The remainder, few as they were, sat upon shoulder or nestled against chest. He would freeze, he knew, but he would also experience less pain.
“I got attacked,” he answered simply. “For real this time.” Smiling to himself bitterly, he pulled the covers up over the emaciated anatomical model. “Most battles I’ve had… They were little skirmishes, really. Cinnabar toyed with me when I refused to corrupt. I watched someone's homeworld try to stab her. I slapped someone for complaining once. And these are all significant experiences, but in none of them did I truly feel my life was threatened. There was always an ‘out’. With Cinnabar, I could’ve changed my mind and survived easily. I could’ve just stepped away with the homeworld incident and Ida. A slap is remedied quickly enough with an apology. But this time…” He paused, sighed. “It was like I had no control over any of it.”
He looked to Lorne then, studied his drawn features, the purple plumes beneath his eyes. He watched the way his hair fought to obscure his face, as if an oppressive mother wanting the best for her child. He wondered if he felt smothered by it all.
“I was attacked by a general named Labyrinthite on my birthday. All I gave him, of anything I could’ve said, was my name. I don’t even know if it made a difference. He simply responded and told me it was time to die. No ‘join or die’, no attempt to convince me of the Negaverse’s merits, he simply decided my doom on the spot. I don’t know if…” Closing his eyes, he buried his face in his palms. Thought pained him. Remembrance urged a ghost of a blade into his hip, down to the bone. “I don’t know if what I said encouraged that, or if he just decided upon looking at me that I was a knight and should therefore die. I can’t say. It frightens me that I can’t say. That there may not be a reason at all.”
One hand fell away, and the remainder pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t even tell you what caused him to stop. He was holding my starseed -” Here he paused, suddenly overtaken by an urge to laugh, even if it pained his bruises to do so. Lorne would know a low chuckle, a private gesture meant solely for Isaiah himself. “It ******** aroused me. Maybe that was it. He ran away because I was getting hot and bothered.
“So now you have the wondrous tale of How Scholomance Nearly Died. Should’ve Died?” Isaiah waved away the notion weakly. “I would’ve livened it up, but ibuprofen isn’t working for s**t.”
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Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2015 6:00 pm
Lorne was ashamed - less to admit that he stole a peek as Isaiah was in his care now, and sooner or later he'd end up seeing what lay beneath the gown, at the very least around the injury site if not more than that. What he was ashamed about was the brief pang of horror that flashed through him at the vision of bone poking too far against skin, and he'd known from the start that Isaiah was painfully thin, but this was -
"When you get better, " his voice did not shake, to his credit. "I mean, when you can. I'll get you whatever you want to eat, okay?" Translation: Please, Isaiah. Take care. Eat more. I worry, more than you know. Please.
Attacked, for real this time. This struck a chord with Lorne deeper than Isaiah would know, and deeper than he would tell him. As his friend spoke, whether his hair was dirty or not, Lorne reached out and brushed it idly away from his face, offering small, comforting touches that he hoped left no aches as he relayed the tale of his ordeal. (Idly, he wondered if it Ploutonion he'd slapped. - he hoped not, but that was sort of neither here nor there right now and the last thing he should be concerned with.)
Like I had no control at all. Lorne nodded along, slowly. His lips parted in muted, horrified surprise - both that he hadn't known it was his friend's birthday, and more that this had all happened on what should have been a very special day. It was horrible that it had happened on any day, much less that one.
Unlike his brush with Xenotime, he'd been given no choice to make - and for no reason, none that he could tell. Lorne's lips pursed at the mention of his fear, his chest tightening. And at the story's end - well -
He'd almost lost him. The only other knight he knew now like him. One of his best friends. The reality struck him again, struck him hard, left him reeling and aching and grateful all in one.
Impulse won out over thinking too long and hard over it. He leaned over, gently cradling Isaiah's cheek in a hand as he pressed his lips feather light but deliberate on his forehead, thumb tracing the line of his jaw as he eased several inches away to stare him dead in the eyes.
"Never before, then, " he half-whispered, his voice strained, a hint of a smile on his lips that seemed almost forced. "Have I been so damn happy you got turned on, Isaiah." He made a sound that was almost a chuckle, but not quite, more of a gasp than anything. "I'm so glad you didn't die."
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 12:22 am
Isaiah smiled, and laughed in his schadenfreude way at his friend's discomfort. He enjoyed Lorne for his softheartedness, for he pecked at it like a vulture. But, alternately, he understood his friend's concern. "I don't think anyone can escape the hospital without losing weight, Lorne. It is disappointing, isn't it? Being this skinny isn't sexy." Isaiah tried to pose imperiously, one arm behind head and one arm draped across the canyon that was his stomach, and one leg bent to model his complete lack of clothing, but it segued into a morbid caricature of french women.
The brush of affection was immediately startling to Isaiah, who was volitionally careful over how he interacted physically with other people. He felt the closeness and found it startling; his immediate reaction urged him to press a hand to Lorne's chest and encourage him to part ways. It felt no different than a lover's attention, and that, too, enacted a wound. Afterward Isaiah leaned away from his friend, gathered up the sheets and blankets, and pulled them over his bony frame.
"Well," Isaiah started, blinked, then deliberately turned away from Lorne while he spoke. The unique heat in his cheeks was encouragement enough to do so. "I don't think that had anything to do with it. It's nothing, really." Labyrinthite, he expected, had very different reasons to pull away from killing him. Something within the man caused a careful shift - one that left him embittered and perhaps even scared. Isaiah knew that wasn't caused by him - or at least not directly. What it was, though, he couldn't begin to speculate. Was it something about his starseed? Something Labyrinthite realized he hadn't done? A memory, perhaps?
I don't need the reason to torment my attacker. Oh Lorne, I am glad that you only know my best sides. Would you still be able to kiss my forehead if you knew the decisions I've made?
When the heat faded, he looked back toward his friend much more soberly. "And what happened to you? Same person?" He quirked a brow at Lorne, and doubted it severely. Why, Lorne would have more of the same injuries that he did.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 12:48 am
Lorne gave a half-laugh, pressing his hand over his lips and shaking his head. When his hand fell, his smile was soft at the edges, both warm and sad at once. "I think I'd laugh much less if I'd never met you. Do you know that, Isaiah? - and nothing of you is ever disappointing, " whether a joke or not he still said it, affection intermingling a little too well with concern in his eyes. Even if it was a joke. It didn't hurt to say it.
In moments, Lorne realized that he'd startled him - that he'd been perhaps a bit too impulsive in his sudden gesture - and it made his chest fell too tight, giving a pang that was as much to do with all the meddling to his starseed as guilt that swept through him.
He knew too well how an unwelcome surge of affection could feel, and the thought that he might have done it to Isaiah rattled him in a way, his cheeks burning intensely as he eased back, his shoulders a bit stiffer than they had been moments before. There was a part of him that was almost gratified to see a splash of color on Isaiah's pale cheeks, and that just made him feel worse about it.
In his case, the color had not diminished in the slightest, and he almost started to have Isaiah look at him again. An apology hung heavy on his tongue, but he choked on the words. "I - n-no, " he said quickly with a light shake of his head. "I mean, I'm fine, really, it was - it wasn't the same person, it was a woman, a, uhm - General Xenotime, was her name?" He made it sound questioning although there was no question to it at all.
Lorne fidgeted, worrying his lower lip between his teeth for a moment and shrugging. He'd more or less tiptoed around it with the likes of Colin and Nadia and Auguste, even - for all the good that'd done him - and there just didn't seem like a point to the whole song and dance now, especially given it was Isaiah. "She wanted to corrupt me - for Ploutonion. She almost did, but he stopped her. So I was lucky, really."
Not that he felt especially lucky, although he rather thought he should. Especially given the state his friend was in.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 1:36 am
"Oh, cute. She's trying to collect the set." I remember doing that back in high school. Even now, there's something attractive about siblings. I wonder if Nadia has any...
"You are so self-conscious." Isaiah leveled a deeply-lidded stare at him, leaning forward for added impact. "When are you going to learn to trust people, Lorne?" And when am I. What good is it to go around saying these things when I don't follow my own advice. "Stammering an blushing like a fool, because what? I didn't react the way you expected me to? Or because you thought you did me wrong, and that somehow my personal comfort and safety is your responsibility instead of mine?" He smiled teasingly, but the point was well-meant.
He settled back against the pillows and winced slightly from the ever-growing pain in his leg. His shoulder, too, did not avoid reminding him of its strained and battered condition. "I wonder why the generals are even coming after us now. Do you think the incidents are related? Even if their reasons are different... Perhaps it's just a personal assignment of reason after Metallia gave the order to pursue knights? I don't know." Fingers came to pinch the bridge of his nose again, and he closed his eyes gently. They felt too dry without makeup. "I'm not even sure if I should continue to power up. Do you ever think the same, Lorne? Or do you have different motivations?"
Corrupt you for Ploutonion. There's something odd about that. Are they, then, planning to eliminate or corrupt everyone he knew from the knighthood so that they could keep him? That's an awful lot of effort for one man. And that's still assuming that these incidents are related. I wonder what it really is.
I think I know what to do about it.
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Posted: Wed Nov 25, 2015 2:58 am
Lorne found himself laughing again, albeit more shortly than before. "True, that - I made myself too obvious back on the train. I took a hit for Ploutonion there, and he carried me off." He reached up and slid his fingers through his hair with a sheepish smile, looking down at his lap. "I worried about him after that - it never really occurred to me that I'd become a target after that? - that was, uh, the second time something's happened, actually." He winced a bit, even as he laughed again. It was forced, coaxing levity into something that didn't really merit it.
His cheeks burned just as intensely, just as brightly, at the look Isaiah gave him from such a close proximity. Learn to trust people? No. No, this was not about trust. But then he went on to say more, and even with that teasing smile -
"I trust you." Lorne said it quietly, but about as determinedly as he ever said anything, still flushed, but now with a soft smile on his face. "All of you. I do trust you. I'd trust you with my life if it came down to it. I just - " His voice caught and his tongue tied. But he struggled to undo them, to unfurl him, even just enough to say it. "- n-never want to put anyone in that position, having someone close to them in a way they don't like. It's a terrible thing to do to someone, a-and it's a violation of that trust, and I'm sorry." His gaze dropped down to his lap, and there for a moment he fidgeted.
The question was one worth asking. All of it. "I don't know. I don't know if what I did accidentally bought more attention to all of us? I - I'd never really considered then what - what a visible friendship might do to us, I - " The sudden thought that there could be a chance that Isaiah's current injury might be somehow tied to his stunt with Ploutonion, and the thought made his stomach churn and skin grow a shade paler. "I don't know. I almost hope it's random. God forbid something else happens."
To even continue to power up... the thought of no more Scholomance to patrol with at night made him sad, although given everything, Lorne couldn't exactly say he would blame him. "Of course I think about it. I mean, I - I did that, for awhile. My pen and my ring just sat on a shelf gathering dust for a long time, " he admitted with a wry smile. "But I got pulled back in, and now I - if I wasn't here now, I - never mind what I do and don't do for the team, I - "
Tentatively, he met Isaiah's eyes with a slight smile, lips pursed, and a shrug of his shoulders again. Then sighed, his gaze looking as though it longed to drop back to his lap, but it never quite fell. "Honestly? - I was lonely before. Really, really lonely. And that made me do some stupid things. - I still do stupid things, but - do you know what I mean?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 27, 2015 9:23 am
"The second time?" Isaiah cocked a brow. Was Lorne truly so adept at getting his a** beat? Isaiah wagered so. Never before had he met someone so uniquely fortuitous in potentially lethal encounters. If Lorne ran into similar trouble as he, then he turned out relatively well for it. Or, perhaps Isaiah was uniquely unlucky in his brushes with the 'enemy'.
Isaiah sighed through his nose, then offered a halfhearted smile. Lorne didn't understand what he meant about trust, and Isaiah lacked the energy and strength to set him straight on it. If he wanted to assume trust of others ended purely at whether he would lay his life down for them, then that was Lorne's decision - not his. Clearly Lorne suffered past trust violations himself and hadn't fully developed a healthy understanding of it quite yet. Besides, if he wanted Isaiah's opinion on it, he would ask - and he had not yet.
"I don't think we'll find out if the incidents are related until we can ask the source. I imagine that it has nothing to do with us. If you think about it..." Isaiah settled against the pillows and laid his hands over his concave stomach. "What have we done to impact the Negaverse? What have we, specifically, as a team of Saturn affiliates, done that impeded them so? For my part, I have nothing to offer. I haven't participated in any sort of counterattack arranged by the team, and so I can't imagine they can relate me to it. And if we're to assume Saturn is a target? Well, I suppose that would require finding out who else is a Saturn knight and what they've done to the Negaverse. And if all this is about your friend Ploutonion... You're not going to like this, but the easiest answer in that case is to kill him. If he's not around to cause problems, then the rest of us won't die."
And if they stop at corruption in their tactics, I imagine you'll be the first to offer yourself up. What would Nadia say?
Isaiah reflected Lorne's smile. "I can understand the doing stupid s**t. I think I've done enough of that to last a lifetime. Or, I thought I did." He added as he glanced down toward the injury sites. "I don't know how you met Methone, but I imagine that if you met her through Mont Blonc, then having an alter ego was only a cure for that loneliness when used as a dating avatar. For me, I can't say that powering up has solved or improved anything just yet. At a glance, it feels like more nuisance than it's worth."
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Posted: Sat Nov 28, 2015 2:50 am
Lorne flailed his hands in a rather helpless way in front of him. "I kind of told Auguste not to tell anyone if he could help it, but, " Isaiah was a little different; like maybe it was an unfair thing to say, but he felt less like his friend would get upset and worry pointlessly over something that had already passed. "Another General, Umber - he came to me looking for information on Ploutonion I just didn't have, and he tried to use Thrymr as leverage against me, " and he cringed at the memory. "I didn't really have anything, and he was holding a blade to Thrymr, and - I kind of panicked? So I sort of said he could have me instead and - anyway, another eternal, Ida? She came up and helped Thrymr so I got my starseed back and all." His smile was sheepish, then, as he gave a sigh. "Auguste was less than pleased with me though."
If anything, at least, Lorne was observant, and his cheeks still vibrantly red from everything else, he offered his friend a tentative smile. "What's that look for?" and he said it in no accusatory way, but rather softly and imploringly, even downright affectionately.
What have we done to impact the negaverse. It was a worthwhile question. While Nadia and Aegir were both more than capable and combat ready, he didn't really know how inclined Scholomance was towards fighting - he didn't seem very much so, especially now, but then he'd never actually seen his friend in a combat situation. Thrymr was still new, and Mont Blonc - all he'd really done was offer continued friendship to Ploutonion and attracted some very unwanted attention in the process.
"I wonder how many agents in the negaverse were once pledged to Saturn, like Ploutonion, " Lorne mused out loud, looking down at his lap. A brief string of panic lit his eyes at the mention of killing Ploutonion, and he reached out, laying a hand lightly on his uninjured leg. "You're right. I don't like that sound of that." His hair fell into his face and Lorne sighed, biting briefly at his bottom lip as he lightly patted Isaiah's leg. "Really, the easiest thing would be if he didn't feel so unsafe and were willing to purify. There's been so many chances now. He's just so afraid."
Really, he did like it when Isaiah smiled. It felt good to see it. "We should exchange stories sometime, " he offered. "Maybe over some wine or something when you're feeling better." I'd like to know you more, Isaiah. Who you are, where you came from, why you are as you are now - so sad.
How he met Methone. A laugh erupted from his lips, sudden and surprisingly loud. "Sorry. Just. The way we met was - " His cheeks burned, and he was laughing still, though more quietly and subdued behind his hand. "Anyway, we met as Methone and Mont Blonc, but our first date was Lorne and Nadia. And I mean more - I don't think I'd have ever met Colin if it wasn't for Mont Blonc. And I certainly don't know that I would've ever met you or Auguste. Even if Nadia and I had never been - " He sucked in a deep breath and smiled fondly. "You've all helped me a lot. More than you know."
But he understood. He understood and nodded to acknowledge that. "I can understand how you'd feel that way, especially given this and everything that's happened on your wonder, I - I can't say I wouldn't understand your decision to want to step away. Just - " He pursed his lips and looked down, then up. "Just, two things - if that is what you decided - please, keep in contact, and please, be careful. Believe me, I - I thought I'd left all this powered nonsense behind me, and - it finds ways to follow you Isaiah."
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Posted: Sun Dec 06, 2015 6:32 am
"I see." Isaiah's eyes grew lidded in thought. Only smoldering flecks of gold and green looked out to his friend now. "Interacting with Ploutonion is a larger burden than it's worth, I would say." He answered slowly, and retained a calm register in case Lorne grew excitable over his controversial thoughts. "You got attacked, and I got attacked. We're both Saturn knights. We both know Ploutonion. I wonder if he's the mastermind behind it? Or if the Negaverse is just dangling him before us as bait? It's difficult for me to say which is more likely... On one hand, I'd never really been attacked before knowing him, and him saving me from bleeding to death seemed like quite the convenience. But on the other hand, I was the one who wrote to him in the first place - otherwise, I doubt he would've been the wiser to the attack.
"Yet, again, you told me you took a hit for him and he helped you off the train. You said Xenotime wanted to corrupt you for Ploutonion, and that he was the one to stop her. Doesn't this sound a little suspicious to you? It's too convenient for my liking.
"But, even with 95% confidence in statistics, that means 5% of all cases will be wrongly thrown out. Having an improbable chain of events like him coming to the rescue in each situation doesn't mean it's impossible. And, of course, we can't say anything about whether the agents in the Negaverse were once a part of Saturn or not. We can't rule that out, either." He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's hard to say. It really is. I don't have any good answers for this - not without speaking with him directly." When he looked back toward Lorne, his exhaustion was clear in his countenance.
Isaiah offered Lorne a wan smile. "I know there are benefits to powering up. I met all of you through Scholomance - I haven't forgotten. But at what point is making friends worth losing your life? When is it worth being driven ragged by some outside force that you don't understand? These are questions I've asked myself before, and I'm starting to realize that serving Scholomance might demand more of me than I can give. It's welcome to follow me all it likes, because I'm not going anywhere right now - but... I need to leave it be for a while. Maybe reevaluate where I am in life. Things have a habit of going to s**t in flocks, don't you know." He shrugged, then carefully rolled to his side to face Lorne more fully. Greasy hair splayed over the white pillow, and his spindly arms extended outward as if to hem in a lover that was no longer there.
"Lorne, if you're really interested in exchanging stories, there's no better time than now. It's not like I can go anywhere." Isaiah cocked an eyebrow wryly.
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Posted: Sun Dec 13, 2015 3:22 am
Lorne let Isaiah say that he had to, and he couldn't entirely blame his friend for thinking such a thing. But even if he wasn't about to come out and call Isaiah paranoid, or even illogical, he could not subscribe to that line of reasoning.
"I believe in Ploutonion, " he said simply, quietly, with his eyes downcast but not out of shame. "In our talks, he's never - he's never made any attempt to push me towards corruption, no attempts to attack me, no attempt to be anything but a friend to me. The coincidences are many, I'll give you that - but you could just as easily ration that he appears when he does because he uses his unfortunate position to his advantage. He puts himself at risk by helping us, and what did he really have to gain by taking either of us to the hospital?"
Lorne looked at Isaiah, smiling, but his eyes were not - not due to anything he'd said, but - "I can't help... but think it would have been easier to corrupt me and build me back up in their image, if that's really what they wanted. It's not as though I have all that much to offer the negaverse as I am now, and I'd be more of a liability if I remembered any of you. A-at least, I'd think so." He rubbed at his chest, then, as though wiping at a phantom ache, "And if it were really deliberate, why let that general hurt you as badly as he did? I just... I can't believe he'd do anything like that. He's a good man. I'm as sure of that as I am of anything."
How many were they, really, in among the negaverse ranks? How many Saturn knights were not among them now for being lost to chaos? The thought disturbed him, really, and he wasn't sure he had the capacity to much dwell on it now. He opted to idly stroke Isaiah's hair instead, hardly seeming to mind the grease of it and instead worried for the exhaustion he saw.
Rest. He'd made sure his friend rested here. He could be safe, comfortable, maybe even happy here. Lorne would make damn sure of that.
At what point is making friends worth losing your life? Lorne's eyes darkened at the words, and he licked his lips, fidgeting. To say he hadn't thought it himself would be a lie. No, he could not, would not leave Nadia, Colin, Auguste, Ploutonion, any of them alone in this. "Do whatever you need to, Isaiah, " and he said it warmly, without judgement, pushing his own thoughts aside in favor of a gentle smile. "Really. I'm here for you no matter whether you choose to take up the mantle again or not. You need to do what's best for you." Just so long as you stay you, my friend - I would miss you as a knight, but I'd miss you more if you were gone. He didn't think those were words that needed to be said.
His smile brightened at the mention of stories. "You're absolutely right, my friend." Something warm and comfortable settled into his chest at the suggestion, delighted that those words had left Isaiah's mouth. "If you feel up to it, I'd be more than happy to - where would you like to start, then?"
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 7:09 am
"He doesn't need to," Isaiah responded quietly. "He doesn't have to rush you toward corruption. Perhaps by your trusting him, you're already halfway there." He doubted Lorne would accept his point but the boy invited its explanation. He let the conversation die there. You trust so quickly that men can be good. Perhaps that's why you like me so much. You think I'm a good man, and you trust that judgment.
You never did ask me why I power up.
"If you remembered any of us, anything about us, then that's information for them to use. Say you remembered that Methone always patrolled the Theatre District every Thursday evening. They know when and where to ambush her now. I wonder about Chaos - I really do. I wonder if it doesn't just scrape all the parts out of people that it finds useless and fills that void with its whim. If that's the case... Then any officer, regardless of how terribly suited they might've been beforehand, is an equally viable vehicle for the Negaverse." Isaiah shrugged. "To put it plainly, between you and Ploutonion, there's nothing to say that one is more worthwhile than the other.
"Still, Lorne, quit putting your neck out on the chopping block like that. You're just being a selfish b*****d and hurting your friends. It does no one any favor to lose you or anyone else to asinine self-destructive decisions."
Isaiah sighed, and an idle hand turned to play with the corner of his pillow. He wondered to himself if refraining from powering up was the right choice. If it was, it didn't sit well with him. And if it wasn't, that would explain the uneasiness he felt about it. Isaiah supposed that it counted as one of those hard decisions - the kind that never gave a clear indication of the better option, and either choice ended in a stark tradeoff - and that he may never fully know. And if it wasn't the right decision, then what was he to do with Scholomance? How was he to serve a place so foreboding and hateful toward its own knight? How was he to fight in a war that did not benefit him beyond profiteering? Isaiah couldn't say.
Instead he returned his attention to Lorne and his questions about Isaiah. "Hmm. You're from France, yes? What brought you here? Start from there."
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 7:00 am
It was something he should have asked - but he was not without flaw, and Lorne did not always know the best time or means to ask. Especially not now, trying not to seem as though Isaiah's statements had in any way flustered him. But they had. The image of his head as a gourd, hollowed out and refined for the juicy bits by someone like Xenotime, was not something so easily shaken, not when the pain of her hand in his chest was so fresh.
No, he did not doubt Ploutonion or his intentions.
But did he doubt the people that'd surrounded his friend? - that would be a resounding yes, and the thought that he might be used to harm the people he loved - that he really had come so close to that -
You're one to talk about being self-destructive.
The thought welled up in him so strongly, he could almost taste the words forming on his tongue; they did not leave him, although he was ashamed for even thinking it, his cheeks burning and his brow lightly furrowed. "I'm sorry. I know you're right, Isaiah, I just - in those situations, it's - I can't do much, so I ... sort of panic."
It wasn't exactly a helpless statement. It was just truth; he wasn't much of a liar, after all. It was action or nothing when things became dire, and he wasn't really sure which of the two was the better option. Or even what he could do to change it. He kept trying to approach situations from new angles, but in the end...
... in the end it hadn't really made much of a difference at all.
The change in topic made him brighten, clearly relieved to leave it behind. "The first time was because my father found work in Destiny City; lots of construction business in this place, you know, " for obvious reasons. He cleared his throat then went on, "Anyway, uh - my grandfather passed, so my father went and took over his restaurant back in France, and Mom and I went with him. I was already a knight by that point, but uh - it wasn't really going too well, and - and I kept meaning to come back, really, but it was just - you know. One month turned to two, and before I knew it I'd settled in and finished high school there and all."
If he was going to tell Isaiah the story, though - well, it didn't make a whole lot of sense to just leave him out. Not when everyone else already knew. It was a big enough part to at least merit a mention. "I started, uhm, seeing someone too - I saw him for - for quite awhile, actually - " He bit his lip and scratched idly at his cheek. "So as for coming back again, well... this is probably going to sound a bit mental, but, " his cheeks burned intensely, and it seemed so silly now, even if he still had nightmares about it.
"I sort of had - this really intensely realistic dream about uh - the future? - only it felt like - like it went on for - god, years, and - it was awful. Really, really awful. I spent most of it in a padded cell for god's sakes." Even as he tried to laugh it off in his nervous way, there was this brief, haunted look in his eyes that wasn't usually there; there was a reason he didn't talk about it much. Even Nadia didn't know. "I thought I'd gone nuts. Had nightmares about it for months after. - apparently I'm not the only one, though, which I suppose is a relief?"
Was it really?
"A-anyway, I - sort of thought maybe it was a sign? - a-and not long after, the person I was seeing ended it with me, and so - I took a gamble and came back, and here I am." He gestured vaguely to himself as though he intended it to be some grand thing, but it fell right flat on its face and all he was left to do was smile sheepishly at his friend.
"So if I may - may I ask you the same?" He wanted to ask about the broken engagement, badly - but he knew better than to come out and ask so directly about such a sensitive topic. If Isaiah was comfortable with talking about it, Lorne would listen. But he wouldn't push.
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Posted: Fri Jan 15, 2016 2:39 am
"So you've been dragged from here to France and back again. I imagine that was quite the culture shock." Isaiah found it difficult enough to adjust to the different cultural compositions within America; he could hardly fathom what Mont Blonc endured from adjusting to France and having to move back again. It sounded as though Mont Blonc enjoyed the life he made in France before the dreams occurred, bar the fact that his significant other at the time broke it off with him. Considering he never mentioned marriage through it, he wondered if the relationship was quite serious, more casual, or somewhere in-between. Perhaps it was better to leave it a mystery.
According to Isaiah's perpetually perverse imagination, the significant other might've cheated on him, and while that was a manageable plan, he found that the new lover's hobbies held far more enrichment than anything he did with Mont Blonc. Perhaps they engaged in midnight racing, aggressive driving, or intentional crashes that left the pair in an adrenaline rush that they needed to address with each other on the spot. And, perhaps, at one point this ex and his lover got in a wreck with Lorne. From there, he would witness his bloodied lover engaging with someone else.
Wouldn't that be an interesting end to a relationship?
"I think I've had something similar to those dreams. It's like you're living another life while you sleep, right? And it's always the same other life - or, somehow, you know it is - and everything you experience is referenced in the next dream somehow. Sometimes they're so vivid that you start to question which reality is the real one, or whether either is true. There have been some fairly unique scholarly articles hypothesizing all realities as a hallucination, which brings one to wonder if we really are just sitting in padded cells somewhere getting shot up with the next latest antipsychotic." Isaiah sat up just enough to offer Lorne a weary but honest smile. "I kid, of course. But these occurrences... Isn't it in our nature to find some meaning in them?" Which, naturally, led to Lorne's return to the States.
When conversation turned to him, the smile faded. It was not a matter of recalling the facts, as he knew he would ultimately answer the same question by virtue of social expectation. However, he always imagined the reveal of his sordid life as taking place under very different circumstances; he could not tell whether the reality of his pending explanation or the imagined one was the cheaper of the two. It didn't matter, though, for only one could occur.
"It doesn't have any sort of magical confluence, I can tell you that." Carefully Isaiah scraped his greasy hair away from his face, as if doing so banished the thought of them. "I lived in New York City with my fiancée before this. And this might sour your opinion of me, but... I used to do a lot of drugs. Then we decided upon engagement to get clean, and I handled it, but the fiancée had issues with it, and we ended up learning that we were entirely different people sober. Incompatible people. So, that dissolved, and I lived for a while in a different postage stamp apartment, but New York sucks for pawn shops so I decided a move was better for getting new friends and better customers.
"I decided on Destiny City because..." He paused, then laughed. "Again, this might lower your opinion of me, but the high mortality and violence rates suggested an excellent market for guns. And besides, at the time I wasn't of a mind that I would detest getting killed in the crossfire. So really, it was a business move as much as a social one. Not quite what you had in mind, was it?"
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 4:45 am
Lorne's smile was a little bittersweet and he carelessly shrugged his shoulders. "Not as much as you'd think, " he said simply. It might have been - really, probably should have been to most people - but it was harder to feel culture shock when there was little to no true investment in the people surrounding him. He felt so detached much of the time, lonely and hollow. That was exactly why things with Archer had played out the way that they had, and why they went on for as long as they did. "It's when I can't, uh - like, we stayed in Paris for a bit, in the heart, and - if I've ever got a problem, it's when it's - it's when I can't get away from buildings and cement that I have a problem, if that makes much sense, " and it probably sounded ridiculously silly, but it was what it was. His cheeks flushed a bit and he laughed.
Shocked, he all but gasped when Isaiah admitted to knowing something similar, and he looked so unbelievably relieved - and then horrified to be relieved, because honestly, who would be relieved over such a thing? Who wanted a part of that? "You've had them too, " he breathed out, his shoulders sagging a bit, running his fingers through his hair. Though his smile was just as weary. "The best jokes are the ones with a grain of truth, are they not?" He didn't even know exactly what he meant by it, and didn't really want to get into just how many times he'd questioned his own sanity since. Not exactly the best 'pillow talk', so to speak.
When it came time for Isaiah to tell his tale, though - sparks of surprise flashed in Lorne's eyes, although to be truthful, much of it didn't surprise him as much as it probably should have. "Just for the record, " he started quietly when his friend had finished speaking, allowing for moments to digest and process his words, trying then not to fumble with his own. "There's very little you could do to sour me - this - whatever, " and his cheeks burned a bit as he pressed on, "I'm happy you told me. I knew - I mean, I didn't know, but - I knew there was something, you know?" and quite probably something more than that, but it was a start. It was a gateway into Isaiah's world, and he was grateful for it.
Addiction's a life long thing, isn't it? - does he struggle with it now? - I know he drinks - I'll have to research this, surely there's resources to be a better ally to someone who's - what if he doesn't need it? - can it hurt to know?
He was ignorant to this sort of thing. But he knew without saying as much that he would try and learn.
"Honestly? - the only thing I had in mind was that this woman, she - must have made you very sad, " he said, idly rubbing at his cheek and stealing glances at his prone friend. "Everyone has their demons. You're here now and you're my friend, and - it matters less the reasons themselves and more that I can understand your reasons now? - I mean to say I want to understand you the best that I can - we're friends, so - "
He smiled wryly. "I'm happy you did not die in a crossfire, though. Or at all."
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 7:34 am
"It's... A little more complicated than that. If it was just that I loved her, then I think I could've accepted that by now and moved on. Sure, there would be some lingering hurt, but... She confirmed something that I was always afraid of. You see, when you're on drugs, you're separate from everyone around you. On some, it's like... It's like the rest of the world moves too slowly. Or they struggle to understand concepts that you grasp with ease. Or they cling to petty setbacks when you could forgive the whole world of its sins. And, from the outside, people on drugs are just... Too violent, too frustrating, too lifeless for one to really interact with. Drugs segregate people, more than people segregate people. And I don't think I fully understood that until I started getting clean.
"But when I did, it started to become obvious that we couldn't coexist so well when sober. I... Don't think she expected as much of a change as she got out of me, either. But she couldn't keep with it, and went back to her usuals. I didn't. I started to learn that I was boring when sober, that I was incomplete. And I think that left the relationship stinging more than it did. With Sidney went the idea that I could be loved for who I was, because she couldn't find it in her to do it. And ever since, it's been more of the same.
"It's strange." Isaiah sighed. "I expected... I don't know, some sort of catharsis out of that. But it's like nothing has changed. Real life is funny like that, isn't it? It never quite plays out like a novel. How disappointing." Isaiah framed his hands over his face. The bony fingers felt cool on features otherwise too hot. They brought him from boiling to simmering.
When he next spoke, his voice sounded muffled beyond his palms. "Now I get the pleasure of going through inane reality while thinking, 'I could be getting high right now'. It gets old, Lorne. It really does."
So old that I've tried to opt out. Fat lot of good that did me.
"It's exhausting to talk about, you know." He felt, already, that he said too much. Even if Lorne accepted him, there was a limit to tolerance for hard conversations like these. They aged a person far more than time ever did, and Isaiah wanted Lorne to retain some of his youth. He knew well that the war wrenched whole handfuls of youth from others in a count of hours, a lifetime in the span of a night. He didn't wish this for Lorne - not by his own accountability, at least.
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