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Post by grey on Jul 8, 2016 2:23:39 GMT
Gale turned to look at Max with a sort of blank expression, but the look in his eyes were ... lonely? Forlorn, maybe. As if he didn't understand the idea of human-human relations, but understood human-nonhuman relations on a different level than most humans. Max's body language, though -- he could grasp the idea of someone feeling defeated by the intricate maze they had built around themselves.
He poured Max a cup of tea, and pushed it into Max's hands.
'Drink. Drink, and forget. Max worked hard.'
nemesis
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change your name and keep your face
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Jul 11, 2016 17:17:34 GMT
Post by nemesis on Jul 11, 2016 17:17:34 GMT
the cup is in his hands before he can even process it, and the words are... there’s something to them that makes him shiver. forget, like that’s a thing he should want, unqualified.
he looks from the tea in the cup to the man standing in front of him. he’s starting to wonder if he has any agency here at all. even now his hands are raising the cup to his lips without his input. his eyes slip shut briefly as he takes one sip, two. it reminds him of something that he can’t place, that he can’t remember.
“might as well,” he murmurs. his voice is quiet.
uncertain.
grey
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Jul 12, 2016 13:51:06 GMT
Post by grey on Jul 12, 2016 13:51:06 GMT
Funny how being in someone else’s mindspace didn’t always work out the way one wanted it to. It was also strange how drinking tea that was obviously just a construct of the mind actually tasted like something: sweet, slightly tart, and ending on a strong herbal note. It might also been something similar to familiarity, but trying to remember more was an exercise best left for later.
Finally, the curtain fell upon Max. Like waves of darkness, an excess of something washed over the scenery; the play had ended, and there was only an eerie silence where the audience was supposed to applaud.
But it was only the intermission, and the play had only just started:
the final stage. the last one standing. not the man on the bus. someone in a fur parka. a man with steel in his stance and death in his eyes. a quiet look and a sort of resigned world-weariness as he stood at the edge of the world. a slant to his shoulders that came from an unhealthy hobby.
above him, the gray sky swirled; beneath him, the cracked red earth shuddered.
someone had been in here before max, and left its signature on display for all to see. whoever it was on this mind-level hadn’t bothered to restructure anything. the landscape was barren and forlorn, with the exception of a few gnarled trees in the unreachable distance, and some rocks scattered around.
J walked over to where max was. he stubbed out his cigarette with his boot as he went.
“ ‘sup,” said J, in a casual tone. “here to hunt?” because no-one trained; they only hunted, or were the hunted.
nemesis
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change your name and keep your face
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Jul 15, 2016 11:16:40 GMT
Post by nemesis on Jul 15, 2016 11:16:40 GMT
his weariness is settling deep, now. a vague thought crosses max’s mind that he might be deep enough to be dangerous, might be at risk of losing what tether links him back to himself. it’s happened, hasn’t it? psychic ghosts, parasites that have to live through hosts?
he imagines he feels kind of nauseous.
the wrongness of the landscape is something that hits him immediately, even as he can still taste the tea. he’s cold. he doesn’t know if it’s the result of his bad feeling or if he really is being forced to believe it subconsciously. he can’t feel an intrusion, but who the fuck knows any more.
something about this one puts him on edge more than the other two.
“i’m trying to get out,” max replies, wary - it shows in his voice, in his posture, in the way the bright blue eyes are weighing up the other man’s body language. “i’m not supposed to be here.”
grey
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Jul 16, 2016 13:00:00 GMT
Post by grey on Jul 16, 2016 13:00:00 GMT
trying to get out made sense to J – he didn’t know why, but it felt appropriate given the situation, and he might have wanted to get out at some point too – but where to? if he got out, where would he even be? quietly, j weighed max’s words.
“okay,” he said, as if max hadn’t just said something really odd.
if this was a dream, then things were slightly problematic. he rarely shared his dreams with others; there were only two people who had joined him before, and this guy wasn’t one of them. but still:
“i know a way. you have to die,” said J, even if the thought sickened him slightly. it wasn’t easy to die. he’d learnt that firsthand, when he had been foiled again and again by forces he didn’t even want to believe existed.
he pulled out a small packet of bitter powder and took a pinch of it. its taste was questionable to most people, but J enjoyed it.
“if you don’t, you just keep going and it gets weird.” once again, he was talking about his own experiences. ragnarök had been wild. dying had been unnaturally hard there.
and then he added a disclaimer. “… assuming this is a dream.”
nemesis
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change your name and keep your face
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Jul 26, 2016 15:05:42 GMT
Post by nemesis on Jul 26, 2016 15:05:42 GMT
“... uh.”
it’s not an ideal solution as things go, to max’s mind, but honestly the crazy is starting to form its own kind of twisted logic. the man opposite him seems way too relaxed for his own suggestion, but -
“... as far as i can tell, yeah. some sort of psychic reaction i had to someone else. who fuckin’ knows any more.” he shifts on his feet, scanning the area. “it’s already kinda weird, i’m not gonna lie. guy standing in front of me telling me to kill myself levels of weird.”
he’s still not exactly convinced. his first instinct is rarely to trust, especially when the stakes are... well. “where is this s’posed to be?”
grey
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Post by grey on Jul 31, 2016 3:26:02 GMT
it was hard to blame someone for something they didn't know. it wasn't like max had died enough times to learn that dying was always the solution to being trapped within a dream.
J left the topic alone.
"not sure," said J, and that was the truth. dreams were weird like that. he was pretty sure where it was, just not the specific location of it.
he looked up, as if expecting confetti to shower down upon him and assure him that yes, it was definitely one of those dreams.
"land of nightmares. probably." he squinted into the distance. he could make out the vague figure of something approaching them, and a cold, clammy feeling crept up J's back like ivy. why now, of all times? J started walking.
the land was cracked and laid with lines that were like scars across skin. if max bothered looking, it would be obvious that he wasn't the first person to have entered J's mind. whoever had come before him hadn't been gentle. like a swift undercurrent, it had consumed the unwary.
"if that's the case, dying is still the best option. or you can try waking up."
nemesis
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