driftfleet | (no subject)

[The voice cuts cold. It steals the breath from his lips, freezes the blood in his veins, solidifies his feet to the floor. The world fish-eyes around him, everything curved and much too far away. With unusual clarity, he looks down and notices his hands are trembling, fingers quivering like an engine. Attempting to speak only reveals that his throat is dry, cracked as the desert they came from.

They. Goddess. There wasn't supposed to be a they. There was supposed to be him and him alone, sheltered from the eyes of those who knew. Of those who had known.

He could still see his smile as he fell, manic and joyous and broken all at once. Idly, he wondered if the screen would show the same thing and if, when he spoke, he would hear Ahl's voice crack once more. Hear the sickening crack and thump, distant but distinct, of his body breaking on stone.

Bile rose and he folded over to halt it, hand clamped over his mouth as tears stung unbidden at the corner of his eyes. This couldn't be real. A joke, a dream, a fault of the augment—something had to have gone wrong. There was no way—

His hands are curling over his stomach. The scars burn like a beacon into his flesh and he remembers everything. The voice in his ear, the grip on his arm, the closeness of his warmth—he remembers it all but the pain. It's something he regrets now. Wants to memory of death to resurrected instead of the memory of him and the laughter in his eyes. The sound of their footsteps, joined in motion, tapping upon mosaic ground.

He needs to move. The hall of the ship around him is spinning and everyone, far though they are, feels too close. Escape is a necessity and he stumbles to find it, slamming into the Starstruck's shuttle with a drunkard's walk. The others will ask questions later. ELN will ask why he took the shuttle away, Aaron will say something snide, Felix will—oh, demon's take the others. Demons take everyone.

Sliding into the pilot's seat, he pulls from the ship and blasts forward, driving somewhere, anywhere, as far as he could go. As far as it would let him. As far as his screams would carry him.

He stops when his voice is hoarse and when his fists are raw and bleeding, sore from banging against metal panels and knobs. The ship slows with his heart. His breath comes back to him but even still, it's a long while before he pulls up the communicator. Longer still before he watches the broadcast and an eternity before brings the microphone to his lips.]

AUDIO

Oren.

[There he is. From one word alone he could recognize that voice. The distasteful way his name sounds with it. His fingers tap along the edges of the screen he's viewing now. Empty. Only voice, and a strained one, at that.]

Now, there's the man I was looking for! Our Great Messiah himself! [Joy overflows from his words, and his video still broadcasts. His lips twitch a bit as he leans closer, resting against the stand the screen is held on as he smiles.]

Tell me, Mattias. This is cause for celebration, isn't it? [Worry cracks into his voice, accusing-- but nothing over the top. Like he's trying to convince himself more than the man on the other side of this strange device. This was nowhere close to home, was it? What had happened?] You sound troubled.

[His smile drops ever so slightly into something a little more serious, though he has a relaxed way of bringing it across. It's true concern on his face.] It leaves a man worried.

[He wants to laugh. He wants to sob. He wants to throw the fucking communicator out the fucking ship. A man worried? A lie dipped so sweet he could almost taste it. Nearly wanted to. How wonderful would it be to go back? To the library, to the walks, the twirls and twists. It's with a lurch in his stomach that he remembers none of them were real and it's with a shaking voice that he answers.] For celebration?

[His voice feels disembodied. Robotic. The question not his own, too vapid and superficial to be what he really wants to ask. How? How is he here? How is he standing? Breathing? Speaking and waving and twisting words in that perfectly charming way of his?

Mattias wets his lips.] Yes, I suppose it is.

[A flood of questions and yet when he tried to think of what to say next, nothing comes. Silence looms threatening to swallow him until, finally—] ... I told you. It's Mattias. Not Messiah.

[His voice nearly cracks as he speaks.]

[It's not a good sign when even his playful words get no rise from Mattias. Broken tones and nervous silence. What did he do?

He smiles, small as it is, and focuses on the screen even if there's only a voice to go by.]

Now's no time to be humble, now is it? [Not when the night is fucking everywhere and they're nowhere near what he'd call home, civilization, the world. He's getting more anxious over that, and it's striking away at his patience quickly.]

Won't you come see me? It's been no more than a day since I've seen you last, and yet it seems you've left me here stranded. [He laughs, like he's trying to make the situation lighter.] What's happened, Messiah?

[What happened? The question feels more cumbersome than the entire world. How is he supposed to answer? Tell the truth? He has to bite back a laugh at the thought.

Still, Oren keeps talking, his words feather-light and all too enticing. Again, his throat feels thick, clogged by his own heart's erratic tempo. Longing threatens to take him and only the grip over his wounds reminds him. Biting his lip, he breathes in deep. Closes his eyes. Leans back in the pilot's seat.

What happened? A hard answer to word but an easy answer to show. He flicks the video on. It feels too easy to do.]

She was taken.

[The words hit hard but he does his best not to flinch, holding the camera up to his face. Oren will know what it means.]

[All at once, the joy leaves his face. In its wake is an anxious concern that roots itself into his mouth, nowhere near a sneer but twitching at the corner like it threatens to be at any moment. Genuine confusion comes next, and it softens his face that would have otherwise been a little too harsh.

Blue eyes.]

She-- [This was no good. His whole reason, his whole chance. Panic grips his chest and transforms to anger. It's an overwhelming feeling that threatens to take control, and he has to force it down, take a step away from the video screen and laugh, short and tired.]

Mattias. [This time it's not Messiah that should work up a reaction, but Mattias. No longer the vessel. And how? He turns again, stepping right back to the screen as both palms come down on each side, allowing him to lean down further. To really stare at him.

He's calm here. He's got to be calm here.] How? Why? What is this, Mattias? [With a gesture around the room; he means the view of space. His idea of night.]

Where is she?

[He can't bear it, switching back to audio. A coward's way out, maybe. But his body is untrustworthy and the stakes are too high for betrayal.]

I told you not to call me Messiah. [It's meant as a joke but all it does is drive the knife deeper. Funny. A title he had always despised now felt condemning when absent.] What you're looking at is space. Someone must have explained it to you. It's... larger than her. Greater. But it's not her.

[There's a great silence before he speaks again.] I don't know where she is.

[The fact solidifies when he speaks it and hits him like a bull. They had taken something from him. Something—someone—he had devoted his life to, and he hadn't cared. Did his best to ignore it. Move on. Become someone else. Pretend to be someone else. All for what? The chance to escape? To know the joys of Renacht once more?

It all seemed so vain now.

Bending over, he holds his face in his hands, voice growing smaller with each admittance.] Forgive me.

Edited 2015-03-25 07:54 (UTC)

[Space. Right. That girl had mentioned it, and stars, and suns, multiple. That this dark space could actually be the opposite of what he had assumed... Or just something else entirely?

Mattias' words are pathetic. Begging for forgiveness when this is what he's done.]

You've lost her? [How? How? His fingers curl around the edge of the platform. Taken, lost, it was all the same. He doesn't reply to him begging for forgiveness.] Then surely you must be searching.

It's—[Shit.]—It's more complicated than that.

[A lie? He couldn't tell. There were unsurmountable obstacles in his way, sure. The Atroma, the augments, the absolute lack of knowledge as to where they were. Yet, had he tried? To break the hold, to uncover the truth? There was the incident with the augment but that had been done out of selfish curiosity not duty.

Guilt settles sour in his stomach but it doesn't dissuade him.] The areas we're exposed to—they're too small. And all the signs of her presence are masked. [He gestures outside despite Oren's inability to see.] You can't find someone based off a chill if the whole landscape freezes. It's—it's a different field out here. I'll need time to study it before I can search again.

[Goddess, help him. He's no idea what he's saying anymore.]

Edited 2015-03-25 22:03 (UTC)

[Growing quiet as Mattias babbles excuses, Oren pushes away from the screen. Anxiousness bubbles up in the form of anger, and he nearly snaps-- but no, he has control of this. He can gain control of this.]

So it's been too much for you to try, my dear Messiah. [That last word bites deep, but still the words come out tinged with cheer. Like a sweet sort of teasing, or a fondness.]

Time is something we don't have much of. [Is that right? It's right for him, at least--] Then, aren't you glad I've arrived just in this time of need?

[Again. The title is being used as a weapon, cutting deeper than any axe.] Please, Oren. Don't call me that.

And, I have been trying. I—[Goddess, what was he doing? Justifying himself to a man as if he were a representative to a race instead of a traitor. His mouth twists, curling into a thin line.]—I don't see why you would care.

[It sounds like someone else's voice, sharp and tight with a secret fury. Not a tone he had ever taken with Oren, a far cry from his usual meek demeanor. It spawns confidence that he forges sharper.] Getting ready for another—

[He catches himself, augment kicking in to remind him that this is public. With a scoff, he pulls back, falling silent.]

[That stops him in his tracks. Anger dissipates slightly at the sudden sharpness from Mattias. It's a strength that would almost be attractive if it weren't coming from him.

But more than anything else, it was strange.]

...Mattias. [Spoken as if he's stepping back onto that name for the first time. Not an apology, but as close as it'll get.] Another...?

[Another... what.] It's not like you to be so cold. If it's finding her that you're fretting over, I've already assured you; I'm here to be of help to you.

[Goddammit. He was so perfect at this. So perfect at everything he did. So calculated and measured, checked over twice. Retreating just when it'd sound the most convincing, as if he really were concerned. As if he really were trying to help.

Probably the worst part is that he's falling for it. Dancing back into the lion's mouth. It only makes him angrier.]

How can you help, Oren, when I just had to explain the nature of space? Do you understand how limited our knowledge is here? Nothing we know applies! We must relearn everything! What help do you think you'll be?

[It feels freeing. Exhilarating. A breath of fresh air. He nearly smiles.]

[He can't help it. He closes his eyes as he listens to this strange outburst, and he smiles wryly.]

For one, [he states, lighter than he has any right to sound] I learn much faster than you.

[He's teasing. It's light and playful like his teases always tend to be.] Has your patience worn so thin?

[He was perfect. Just perfect.

Mattias' words catch in his throat, a short garbled noise slipping past his lips. It's a trick, he knows it is, but it stalls him. Catches him off-guard and tames him just as any of his charming smiles.

Still, that doesn't mean he can't slide in one last comment.]

Oh, piss off.

[But the anger can't even last three words. It tips upwards into a hesitant chuckle. Grumbling, he glances away from the comm, trying to fight back the smile that pulls at his lips.] You simply had the better library.

[He laughs, genuine. Piss off, was it? Oh, but he so enjoyed this.

Still, normalcy returns once again, and he's stepping back to the screen.]

Then here we are, on even playing grounds! Still, it seems as though you have the advantage. Just how long have you been here, Mattias?

If space were the only thing twisted here, I may be surprised. Has time warped around us as well? [There's no way he'd grow a spine in like, one day. What the hell was going on?]

How long? [The question surprises him. He pauses to think.] ... Perhaps a bit more than a month. Not too long.

[It raises a good point, though. So lost had he been in all the emotions Oren elicited that the thought had never occurred. Could the time disparities prevalent across the fleet pertain on a more individual basis? Could two people be from different points? It was hard to tell, given Oren's natural eye color but... it would explain why he was so adamantly friendly.] ... Oren. What was the last thing you remember?

A month?

[Okay, he assumed time was odd (since apparently he's meeting talking plants and dealing with space, whatever that was), but this...]

How could that be when we were speaking only yesterday? [He doesn't really want to go into detail of the last thing he remembers, but this should be good enough.] Another day out on the town, just the two of us. Surely you remember it. I showed you that nice spot away from the crowds, one of my favorites. From how you were smiling, I could only assume you enjoyed it as much as I!

[His smile is sickeningly sweet now.] And you, if time is so twisted as I'm lead to believe?

A further night. [ He says without thinking, mind two steps behind. He pauses so it can catch up, churning through believable options for a convincing lie.

He remembered that night, the one Oren spoke of. Recalled sitting by his side as cheers called up from dance pavilions below and lanterns swayed with the music. It had been humid, having rained the day before, and his hair had been a mess. Oren had made more than one teasing comment on it. That was when the charade was still in full. Before the night of chaos that was Nocta's reveal.

Oren couldn't know that he had come after. Couldn't let him know of his own knowledge of Enkythos, of failure, of his death. It was too dangerous, or so he told himself, though the reasons it held risk escaped him. They didn't matter.

All that mattered was the lie.] We fought. Over food, of all things. [ He chuckles and, surprisingly, it sounds natural.] You insisted grape leaves were superior to Orphlegian mrouzia. Somehow, it brewed from there. [He calls forth a sad smile, much easier than the laugh.] We haven't spoken in days. I believe you were avoiding me.

[Hopefully, that's enough. A good enough explanation and a good enough reason for his prior reaction.]

[It makes sense. As much sense as anything can make in this position, at least. Fighting, over something so trivial. He likely had business to take care of, or maybe he needed a break. Some time to mess around and clear his head. It could go either way.

That sweet smile of his doesn't leave.]

Over food? [He laughs, too, much lighter and willing Mattias to follow in the same.] You would be so stubborn. [To argue with him over fucking leaves, please.]

But I don't recall a thing of this, Mattias, so be glad. I'd rather like to see your face. Or do you plan on hiding from me this whole time? [Isn't it amazing how he can look at him, even through this camera, with such a twinkle in his eye?] I'll grow lonely.

[He doesn't want that, at least.]

Come now, show me your face! Better yet, why don't we meet? If our competition is to be fair this round, I'll need to know as much as you about this place.

[After a long silence, the camera flicks on with a sigh and the roll of his eyes. Still, a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.]

You are dangerously charming.

[Ha. Bad joke. He chuckles at it, knowing it'll pass off as general amusement. Setting the comm down on the dashboard, he rests his head on folded arms, gaze drifting to just over the camera.] Unfortunately, [fortunately] we won't be able to meet until you're off that ship. Which won't happen until later in the week. Doubtless, someone has explained it to you. I'm afraid I've time yet to keep ahead.

[His eyes slim, lips curling into a grin.] Not that I'll need it.

[Leaning back now, stretching as he moves.] For now, the best you can do is amuse yourself with those around you. Surely, you've met a few by now?

[Dangerously charming? What a weird way to say it. But Oren laughs with a sheepish duck of his head, raising a hand to the back of his neck as he thinks. Right, he'd heard something like that. So Mattias was off of this already. It made sense if he's been here a month, too.

"Sense." None of this made "sense."]

Worry not! Boredom isn't something I allow for quite long. You know that. [Go ahead and assume what he'll be doing with all his new buddies, Mattias.]

But what has been keeping you entertained? If you intend to keep a library from my knowledge, I'll be wounded.

[Never before has Mattias hoped the Marsiva is full of children. Entertain yourself with them, you ass.]

Mm. Well, there were a series of libraries on the past moons. A shame, though. You missed them.

[Oh, how smug he sounds about that.] For now, I've been visiting the world we're drifting above. They've sights we've never seen down there, Oren. Full fields of flowers. Forests. [He sounds like he's stopping himself early, voice wistful.] It's enough to keep any man of the desert busy.

Ah! I do hope the research of those libraries was able to help you in your quest, Mattias.

[Messiah, oh loser of Nocta.] You taunt me, though! I do hope you're still not upset over leaves. The minute I step foot off of this... ship, well, I do expect a full tour.

[Call it a date.]

[Fuck you, Oren, Prince of Nothing.]

Then perhaps you should get a guide! Your new crewmates may know of one. If only we could check in advance.

[You want a date? Work for it.]

Edited 2015-03-26 06:10 (UTC)

forward-dated to after everyone else; action/audio

jesus christ

THERE'S A LOT OF EMOTIONS INVOLVED HERE

ah...... gross... removes them

you can't it's a disease also it's video now bitch

damn

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prays i spelled everything right

how did you write that on your phone

wiggles magic fingers OOooooOOOOoo

slaps ur hands

WIGGLES MORE AGGRESSIVELY

i reject your wiggling

you were never good enough for my wiggling