driftfleet | in the shadow of the valley

Entry tags:

in the shadow of the valley

Who: Mantis and thee~

Broadcast: YEP

Action: Bishop

When: Now

A: Bishop (accidental broadcast)

He's in his office. A man with brown hair and a scowl is glaring at him. The man is proving difficult to deal with.

He's in his office. The man is in trouble. Much as he fights, some illusions are hard to break.

He's in his office. There's a burning pain in his chest. His leg. The man takes off his mask. Blue eyes meet grey with mutual hate. His mask is back on and all goes black.

He's in his office. Chairs provided by Atroma are floating around in lazy circles. Mantis is likewise suspended in mid-air. His shoulders are tense, his hands in fists, and he's breathing in a slow and deliberate manner. The feed is slightly askew from where he had tossed his transmitter to the floor.

A pair of scissors comes up behind his shoulder. The chairs all slam against one side of the room. There's a dull think as the scissors lodge themselves in one of them. Mantis' feet touch the floor and he sits on the desk. Truly the worst thing about remembering is a lack of proximity to that which one wishes to destroy. He waves his hand and the feed goes dark.

B: Broadcast

The feed now shows Mantis slumped over the desk in his office. The scissors are upright where they have been stabbed into it. He waves vaguely at the camera before picking up his head.

"This is undoubtedly morbid, but I currently lack in a real answer. Has anyone ever..." His voice falters. "Come back from the dead? Not here, but where they come from. I need some perspective on something.

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_{[Yuri... Yuri had been watching with morbid fascination as Mantis moved the chairs with his mind. He was sure he might hurt himself if he continued. He... thought he was sure? Yuri doesn't really know anymore. He just knows Mantis is a friend and he's got issues hidden underneath the surface. The powers don't bother Yuri as much as he thought they might. It's the not knowing what's going on in his head that bothers him.

When the first feed cut off he didn't know what to make of it and he had a fleeting thought of running out to find the man but then the next feed came on.]}

I haven't died or known anybody who did but I can talk to you... what's happening to you, Mantis? What are you going through?

[Mantis is not a person to open up about this kind of thing lightly, but Looma came back and a lot of the thoughts he had quieted down seem to have come back with her. He's comforted a little to see Yuri responding. A more balanced perspective might do him some good.]

Looma died. She was trapped on the planet, and when I thought of what it would feel like to be there, I remembered the pain I was in before I woke up on the ship. [He sits up and points to his chest.] It was a bullet. Usually I dodge them, but he slipped my grasp just long enough to pull the trigger. It should have ended there. Then I woke up here.

[That was...one hell of a display. He isn't sure what he just watched and whether what he saw was real, a hallucination, or just some weird nightmare. Then again, a lot of people had weird powers here, and he was a living sword, so he probably couldn't call the kettle black here.

When he speaks, his voice is rough, like it hasn't been used in awhile.]

I have, but probably not in the way you mean. I just got all the memories of all my swords in my head - even the ones who died.

[He coughs]

[Exercise, mainly, followed swiftly by a loss of temper. Mantis is feeling something. It isn't a something with a singular name or emotion to it, but it is very much there.

His head tilts slightly at the message coming through.]

Your swords have memories? I had no idea that weapons were capable of such things.

Yeah, we are. At least, the swords I know are. Most objects if-- [ugh crap give him a second, he has to breathe and it's hard.] --they live long enough will get a soul and start gatherin' memories.

Like a local haunting. [There's a bit of shuffling as he sits up.] Are you sick? You should get medicine.

No. Swords can't get sick.

[He can't get sick, don't tell him he's sick.]

And we ain't ghosts. We're spirits - it's different.

[Well, if he wants to be stubborn...]

Spirits, hmm? You must have cut people down at some point. We had someone with a sword who had gotten into the base. Couldn't find him at all, no matter how much I looked.

Well, yeah. That's the point of a sword, right? As a weapon, I've killed a lot of people.

[And as a sword spirit, he's killed a lot of corrupted spirits and the enemy.]

A sword's a good weapon for stealth - no sound, cut 'em right with the right weapon and they can't even yell. Must've been a good wielder if you couldn't find him.

I've seen swords made just to display. They're not all good for killing.

[The strangeness of talking to a self-identified sword is starting to calm him down. It's a fine distraction.]

We were losing a lot of our men to that menace. I might have not found him, but my boss will crush his neck if he gets caught.

Mm, some of 'em are made for display, sure. [Like Mikazuki or Nakigitsune] But given a chance, they can still kill. I know a lot of display swords that can still cut a man down.

And if that guy gets caught, he'll have to accept the consequences of it. You don't go into battle not ready to die.

You would have to put a lot of force behind it.

[He makes an irritated noise.] He will. If I ever get back home, I'll kill him myself.

Depends - I heard later people make swords that aren't meant to cut and then, yeah, you'd basically have t'bludgeon someone to death. But in my day, a "display" sword could still cut.

[Any 'real' sword worth its steel should be able to cut. Otherwise it's just a hunk of metal.]

Good luck t'you in killin' him.

[He's starting to like this stranger with his acceptance of death as inevitability of picking fights. His fingers drum on the table.]

You must be older than I am, but you don't sound it. Do you have a name? Everyone calls me Psycho Mantis.

Probably - it's been about 635 years since my forge date. I'm the war sword Doudanuki Masakuni. You can call me Doudanuki or Doutanuki though, it's about the same to me.

[Psycho Mantis, huh? He isn't sure which of those names to use. "Psycho" seems a little...much. Mantis maybe, then?]

[He's still not convinced of living swords, but the man speaks so assuredly of it, he can hardly argue.]

You are definitely older. By at least... [He counts off on his fingers.] Twenty times the time I've been around for. I think I will have an easier time with Doudanuki, as far as names go.

"It is not something that I have personally experienced, although both my brother and my cousin are snatched from the time of their deaths to this place, and death sits lightly on my folk in any case."

"It's sitting heavily on me. Sometimes I can sleep, other times I remember, and the pain feels like it only happened recently."

Maglor hums sympathetically.

"Having never died myself, I cannot speak of it but... you could ask to speak to my cousin Fingon, or my brother Maedhros? Both of them, as I said, came from their deaths. It is... harder for Maedhros than it is for Fingon, but if you wanted to see how they coped... "

"I would. I'm used to the dead staying that way and being rendered silent by their new condition except to a few with the gift to hear them. The only way I'm sleeping again is if I can control these emotions." He looks directly at the feed, taking in the dark hair. "Do you know which ships they're on?"

"They are here, with me on the Huntress." Maglor nods. "Just... be gentle, with Maedhros. It will be easier, with Fingon, although he struggles too."

"Huntress... If I see them on the broadcasts, then." He makes a thoughtful noise. "You said death sits lightly on your people. It's rare to find people who think like that where I come from."

"Fingon will likely invite you round to feed you, if so!" Maglor smiles.

"Aye - we are not like Men, whose spirits go winging free - we Elves are bound to Arda, to live as it lives, and die when it dies. So even slain we live on, and we go houseless to the Halls of Waiting, and there once healed we return again to Life."

His shoulders shake as he takes in all the different words coming from Maglor's mouth. Elves. Arda. It sounds so outlandish, but he once thought aliens belonged in that category.

"The kind that feeds others. We might get along well. But you said you're an elf? You look like a human to me. At least...from what I can see where I'm sitting."

"I am, yes. And why not? We are, we think, distantly akin, after all. But there... " He pulls back his hair to reveal the upswept ear.

"I've been told this is our most prominent mark of otherness. Also we tend to... er. Glow. A little."

Mantis sits up a little. This is definitely strange. Enough that he's pulled away from his irritation near completely.

"You are telling the truth..." His gaze focuses on Maglor's face. "I suppose the glow would show up better in person."

"Probably!" Maglor agrees. "It is not something I routinely notice, unless we are angry or our spirits high."

"Like blood rushing to the head, but more of an aura than a perceptible change in skin coloration. Interesting."

"I suppose so?" He says thoughtfully. "It has never been a particular study of mine."

"It is for me. The more I study people, the better I work with them."

He chuckles. "You would get along with my more curious brethren, I think. I am too much a poet to care."

"More inclined to a sedentary lifestyle? I never managed to make that work out, even when I wasn't trying."

"I would not say sedentary but...unless it concerns music or horses, I was never particularly interested!"

"You're a musician and an equestrian type? Horses are massive and skittish at the best of times. Not that it seems to stop people."

"I had the command of our calvary, back in the day. I do love a good steed, but it has been long, and long, since I had one of my own. A wandering bard cannot usually afford such indulgences."

Let's just assume John heard the ruckus aboard ship and well -- he wouldn't be a good med officer if he didn't check on his shipmates, would he? So he knocks carefully, hearing the end of Mantis' broadcast.

"Hey, you okay? I didn't come back from the dead at home, but I did when I got here."

The door opens by itself and Mantis has propped himself up on the desk. His shoulders are still very tense, but he's not as agitated as he was when that happened.

"Really? It's the stories of fiction where I come from. The dead are supposed to stay that way."

"I mean, it is for us too, though I can't say I remember any stories about folks comin' back from the dead. Other than like, ghosts an' stuff. Let's just say it was kind of a shock, wakin' up here."

"Ghosts are different. They have reasons to stay." He sighs. "What is it like here? To come back?"

"Definitely weird. Like, we didn't have nearly any of this stuff at home. Electric lights, heating, never even figured we could go into space."

Shay responds fairly quickly to his request, concern and worry on her face as she bites her craggy lip. Her lizard that Mantis bought is resting on her shoulder.

"I am afraid I have no answer for you, but are you...well?" Mantis has been kind to her, and Shay sees no reason to not return the favor.

Oh, Shay. He's convinced there isn't an iota of malevolence in the entirety of her body with how well she seems to think of others. The lizard makes him smile a little, but it falls right back into the grim line his mouth is set in.

"No, but hopefully someone on these ships knows what I speak of and can give-" Advice? Consolation? "Me an idea of how to handle how this feels."

Shay makes a quiet, sympathetic noise. She doesn't know what to say, but she wants to help somehow.

"Is there something I could do? Perhaps offer you company?"

"You already keep me company like this." He makes a thoughtful noise. "Perhaps a ship with more walking room? I need to stretch my legs."

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in the shadow of the valley

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Sorry about the late reply!

No worries I am travelling and thus slow anyway lol

At least I'm not alone in this regard ;u;

/pats

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/pettings

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