driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Erik Lehnsherr & anyone
Broadcast: Fleetwide video, unintentional
Action: The Marsiva
When: 26th Feb

[When the feed begins, Erik is already awake. Awake, but not yet moving from the bed. He's holding himself in the kind of intense stillness that preludes a burst of activity. And it comes shortly after, as he rolls swiftly to his feet and surveys the deck. This isn't the mansion, that much is clear. Nor is it part of any realm he's been in that he can tell. His brow furrows as he glares daggers into a featureless wall. While there is nothing of particular interest about it - it's just a wall - he seems to be observing something he finds off-putting about it.

He shakes his head abruptly, a quick jerk of the chin.] No. [With nothing further to say than that, he turns and stalks out of frame, with only a cursory glance at the communicator left behind.

Ten minutes pass, the feed holding on a truly exciting shot of that empty bed and floor.

But soon enough he re-enters the frame, wearing an expression somewhere between frustrated and resigned. This time, he does notice the communicator. After a considering pause, he walks over, reaching out ... and turns it with a finger, pointing the camera at the wall. His voice rings out clearly a moment later.]

If someone is watching, I'd appreciate an explanation. I haven't got much patience for these kinds of games anymore.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I am called Leto. Though I know I possess a shocking resemblance to Charles Xavier, we are in no way affiliated with each other.

[ As for games . . . well, he's familiar with the kind of games Erik has been through. They were, after all, similar shades of the ones in Aather. ]

I guess this could be much like the games we played in our respective . . . prisons. But different. Less call for death and mayhem.

[It's incredibly jarring to hear the name, when he'd only just come to the conclusion that it wasn't him. This isn't telepathy, surely. It's something else.]

And what prison would that be?

[He's on his guard. Whoever this Leto is has some degree of familiarity with him, and the implications of that are dangerous. He knows about games, but Erik's certain he would remember seeing someone like this around the library, or Kyriakos.]

Mine was called Aather. We went there to be heroes and regain our memories. A familiar story, I imagine. Though I believe mine was far kinder than yours might have been.

[ Death had a hand in Aather, but it was dealt lightly. There were other punishments, cruel ones, but they certainly did not happen regularly. ]

[Erik tilts the communicator away slightly to rub at his face. A third place like that - perfect. It was at least a small consolation to know the library had been wiped from existence.]

Too familiar. There's obviously a lot of benefit to the arrangement, if it keeps resurfacing elsewhere. [The bite in his voice indicates well enough what he thinks of that.]

No, the places I've been were the library, and Kyriakos. Kindness wasn't a virtue there. [Slightly unfair, in his assessment of the latter.] And what of this place?

Aather is done. I'm sure the others will be too, in due time. Such appeal can only last for so long.

[ He shrugs loosely. ] This place is less demanding. You're allowed to do what you want, however you cannot leave. Apparently we are being watched by an unknown audience.

So we can do what we want, except for the one thing we want the most.

For the meantime. That too, will end eventually. They always do.

[ He watches him carefully, his head cocked to the side. Not like Charles, not unlike, not quite human. ]

Are you worried for your home?

[It's unnerving. Talking to him keeps Charles firmly in his mind, though he wouldn't have been far from it even without this.]

Right now, I'm worried about myself.

[That's true enough. The rest of it - his world, his people, his loved ones - they all stand behind it like shadows. Erik can only deal with himself right now. The rest will follow.]

[ His lips quirk into a whimsical smile. ]

I think you'll be fine.

What are you basing that on?

Intuition.

[ To some degree. ]

You have your skills . . . and I have mine.

[That's a nice deflection. One he might pursue later. For now, he has bigger problems.]

I take it you're on board one of these other ships I've heard about.

The SS Golden. Why, would you like to move in with me?

Not particularly. I'm just getting my bearings.

A ship will be assigned to you, though they do allow transfers. Many ships are filled to their capacity of late. There's been an influx of new people, much like you and me.

[Assignments, crews, transfers. It's a whole machinery they're stuck in.]

Is that unusual?

[ He considers this, looking away for a moment. You get the impression he's consulting - or checking something, though you may not know how ]

Yes and no. It's been known to happen, but it does not happen consistently.

So there's no pattern as such.

No. It's not as simple as people leaving and others coming in to fill the slot, so to speak.

[Nothing there to rely on, then.]

Some television producer would be in charge then, if I have the basics of this situation right.

[Not that he believes that, either. Television executives don't have the power to rip people out of space and time. At least, they shouldn't.]

Perhaps. Though I wonder whether our benevolent overlords are more magical than technological, despite our settings. It would explain their powers.

[ Or at least, some strange blend of both. He certainly doesn't think it is the Personae at all. ]

It would make more sense to me.

Ah, but sense rarely comes to play when it comes to these . . . beings. Beings of power, beings of the unknown. Who we never see, but remain behind the curtain.

Sound familiar?

I get the feeling you don't need me to answer that.

Need? No. Very little need comes to mind. But I believe it answers most of the questions you have. Asked or unasked.

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