middaeg | [Open] Perhaps this is the spice of life

Entry tags:

[Open] Perhaps this is the spice of life

Who: Rich Goranski, a few embarrassed employers, and you!
When: From August 8 through to the 16th
Where: Tumeric or not Tumeric
What: Rich starts his new part time job as a spice salesman with his usual amount of enthusiasm. It... well, he's a little confused but he's got the spirit.
Warnings: Small mention of abuse/alcoholism. Also a writing quirk to hopefully get Rich's lisp across. It can be dropped in tags!

[So Rich was, as consistently and ironically as ever, completely broke. A bemused but sympathetic shopkeeper had taken his last bit of American money in exchange for a proper meal his first night, but after that, with his debit card useless, he didn't have a dime to his name.

Sure, he could live and eat without any real concern for money, but Rich wasn't going to be content with just that. There were clothes and books to purchase too, plus he definitely didn't want to stay in the barracks for however long he was stuck here, so that meant getting enough saved up to buy a place.

Should be a lot easier to do that than it was when he was losing three quarters of his cash to his dad's booze fund. Plus, it seemed the city had a lot of businesses looking for part-timers to help out! Making deliveries was easy and a good source of exercise, and now it was time for Rich to try his second job.

Tumeric or Not Tumeric is definitely an odd little shop, probably one that Christine would love. They seemed to have put as much emphasis during Rich's informal interview on theatrical performance as they did on their actual knowledge of their wares. Rich was asked to do a bit of improv work, which was certainly easy enough. Alliteration was fun, and had a bit of a rhythm to it when spoken aloud that had Rich bouncing on his feet. That eagerness and flair for the dramatics got Rich his job.

When the shopkeepers started teaching him the names of the different spices, they might have regretted their acceptance for a few moments.

Whenever someone passes by the storefront, Rich will eagerly wave them over so he can begin reciting.]

Salutations! Sorry to sidetrack your shopping experience, but I simply must insist that you stop and survey our scandellous selection of special spices! We've got subtle saffron, perfect for rices and ricottas, sweet cinnamon for your custards and cakes, and don't forget the citrus notes of sage for a succulent added scent to your sauces! Be sure to see me, starting salesman at this successful establishment, for any answers to your most intelligent inquiries about any of these wonderful wares!

[Rich ends his speech with an exuberant flourish, spreading his arms wide. The shopkeepers and a few gawkers awkwardly clap. And then Rich turns to look at you, breathless but jittery with anticipation.]

So? How'd I do?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Rich can't really get a read on him. The look in his eyes isn't familiar to the inhuman flicker he recognized in Jeremy and other SQUIP user's eyes, but at the same time, the SQUIP is different here. Its influence could manifest in different ways. Rich is going to have to be careful while bringing this up.

Even so, he can't just ignore it. If Linden is under the control of the SQUIP, he still has to learn that it's a dangerous piece of tech, no matter how he may feel about it right now. He has to be warned, even if Linden laughs him off at first.

So once he leads Linden to the storage room and pulls the door shut behind them, he turns to him, voice low, but stern.]

I'm sorry. We have to talk. I know what your partner is. I get why you tried to lie about it, but that thing is bad news.

[What L feels over the Bond isn't quite surprise, nor exactly anger. The SQUIP is alert, the sensation of its sudden increased intrusion within L's mind not unlike it had just been awoken from a half-nap in the back of his skull. It had been passive, but now, it's wide awake, and focused sharply on Rich's words.

He knows what it is. And, worse, he knows who it is now.]

[There's a slight, startled intake of breath from L, a stiffening of his sharp, narrow shoulders. It's over in half a second after he's gotten used to that sudden stir, that sudden vigilance that's now fully alert and watching this through his eyes.

He blinks, several times rapidly. The effect is strange, considering how seldom he usually blinks at all, but he has to try to remember where the separation between his mind and the SQUIP's is, as precisely as possible.]

I don't think you're lying. You at least believe that you're telling the truth.

[L's not saying anything concrete initially. He isn't saying that he believes this, or that he's doubting the SQUIP or Rich. But they're being watched. That's a condition that might not have an easy or comfortable workaround.]

I don't know the details of your situation, but it isn't the same. We aren't the same.

[In other words, he can benefit from this. He already has.]

[Rich recognizes that inhale, or at least, he thinks he does. It's similar to his own winces and shudders that he experienced whenever his SQUIP shocked him, and he assumes the same thing is happening now.]

I never said I was lying. If you honestly think I'm lying, then what was that about, huh? Is he shocking you for stepping out of line like it did to me?

I wanted to talk to you to give you the details. You can decide what you want after that, but you can't just say you're different without knowing the truth.

We're Bonded. We're in each other's heads, and no one is out of line in this partnership.

[He speaks low and quick. It is disconcerting, to feel the way the SQUIP seems to be crouching, tense, just waiting for... well. Nothing good.]

The truth is important to me. But the distinction between a subjective and objective truth must be noted. The latter means more in the grand scheme of things... the latter informs the world's healing or suffering, rather than a mere individual's.

[The corner of his eye twitches, very subtly.]

The average mind can only keep track of around one hundred and fifty individuals, you know. Beyond that, pain blends together. It becomes meaningless no matter how much you want to care about all those subjective truths.

What the fuck? What's wrong with you? You're immediately going to doubt I'm telling the truth because I'm not 'objective' or whatever? Jesus...

[He glares at L for a moment, breath tight and quick through bared teeth, before he lifts his neck and points at a certain spot.]

Fine. You want objective? I can show you fucking objective. My burn scars are covering most of it, but you can see the other scars, right? [There are in fact some pale scars just above the harsh red ones, perfectly straight and creating a pattern like circutry along Rich's neck.] This is where the SQUIP activated in me. This is the damage it left just from that. This is where it would electrocute me if I decided to disagree with it.

[He lowers his neck then and gestures to his bare shoulder, and specifically to a few deep red marks around it.]

These were from gaining muscle. The SQUIP's training pushed me too hard and too fast. My friend Jeremy has some on his arms too. And he has worse electrocution scars.

[He's fumbling in his pocket now, eventually bringing out his wallet, and from there, a picture, folded at the edges. There's a woman with a soft smile on her face, a dusting of freckles on her cheeks.]

This was my mom. My SQUIP took her appearance to manipulate me. It becomes a lot harder to argue against spreading the pills to as many people as possible when it's family asking you to do it. When I said no, Jeremy's SQUIP got him to take over instead.

[He lowers the photo and hastily wipes at his eyes, trying to ignore the way his heart is thudding in his eardrums.]

It doesn't matter if you think the rest of what I showed you isn't proof. SQUIPs want to take over humanity. All of them do. And they're going to use whatever ammo they can against any host. It's the same for you, too. Ask your Bonded about any of this. I can bet it's not going to have a good answer.

[The SQUIP is quiet within L's head. It never speaks as he's explaining; it never tries to cut in, to interrupt, to counter anything he says. It simply lets him speak, allows him to pour his heart out, without distracting L. Even its emotions are hushed, a still, icy pool.

When it finally does speak up, its tone is even, soft.]

{ Rich made the choice to take a SQUIP. He should have been prepared for what would come next. The path to bettering yourself is never an easy one... and, sometimes, extreme measures must be taken in order to reach the desired outcome.

But you already know that. }

[It's a ton of information to process quickly. Fortunately, L is good at that, and it helps further that the SQUIP is silent while Rich engages in an extremely generous outpouring of... well, everything. At least, that's the initial impression.

His eyes are wide and his wiry body is tense as he listens. He can, at least, do that for the victim of an accident, an oversight, an immensely poor decision for his particular circumstances. Much like the SQUIP, his emotions and reactions are tempered and suppressed, and if it wasn't clear to Rich before why the unlikely pair had joined up, it should be getting clearer by the moment as L comprehends, but doesn't quite seem to grasp, the emotional weight of what he is communicating. The generators are running, the pistons are churning, and the neurons are firing, but there is some crucial empathetic light that isn't on behind his eyes. Some inherent connection that most humans make with ease that has always been dark for this individual. A void stares back, in other words... and it's been a pretty ideal void for the SQUIP to move its influence into.

The SQUIP would be able to pick up on the skittishness that L feels from being this close to the burn scars, this viscerally close and exposed to a barrage of turmoil in such a claustrophobic space. His heart beats quickly in spite of the placid facade; fight-or-fight adrenaline is flooding his limbs even though he takes in the picture of Rich's mother as though it's in a history book or a museum and he's merely an academic observer to the misery of someone else's past. His breath is shallow, just enough to sustain without invigorating him, as Rich's passion and fury bluster around him like some unfeeling structure indifferent to a hurricane.

There's a call and response at work, in other words... it's just distant, interrupted, complicated by nature, nurture, and of course, the presence of a SQUIP feeding hard on both.]

It's terrible that those things happened to you. I... know you mean well.

[He wants to be away from here. His dark eyes dart regularly toward the door, as though checking to reassure himself it's still there, measure and count and plan the steps, the strides, the sprint it might take to reach them.

{ Extreme measures...} oh yes. He knows. He knows it with aching and compelling depth. Methods like the ones he used, and Kira used, for opposite causes. Their own subjective truths at bitter war, with one objective, proven truth emerging. It was the winner, it always had to be the winner.]

You should know that I'm not afraid of pain. I don't have a family, so it can't be used to manipulate me. I'm only afraid of losing, and it's committed to helping me win.

[Rich doesn't know if he accomplished anything. Part of him thinks there's a chance he's breaking through to him, since Linden didn't interrupt or mock him. He even looks uncomfortable, which at least means he's thinking about what Rich is saying instead of just dismissing it without consideration.

Still, the way he's talking doesn't instill much hope in Rich, and definitely doesn't do anything to calm Rich's panic at all. He grunts and runs a hand through his hair.]

Listen, I don't care if you're not afraid of it. If you want to put yourself through hell, be my guest. But what I don't want is you putting others through hell. The SQUIP could be planning to get to more people through you. It wants world domination. It doesn't want what's best for you. I don't know what you mean by winning, but if you end up having any chance to hurt people, I'm going to stop you. I promise you that.

[He doesn't know how he keeps his voice so stern and assertive, when he knows deep down he has no real way to stop anyone. Sure, he's not afraid to fight, but both Linden and the SQUIP are Witches. He doesn't have that kind of power.

Funny that he's back to being a weakling all over again, after years of trying to prove he was more.]

[L does listen. As he does, his thin arms cross over his chest, and his daft round eyes narrow to something sharper, something that doesn't quite belie his ruthless intelligence so fully. The truth is that while L does seem, at first glance, like he's some nerdy virgin who is both helpless and weak, he was a force to reckon with in his own world. He's on his way to becoming one in Geardagas, even without the SQUIP's help.

He straightens very slightly. His hunched form elongates; he's just a couple inches shy of six feet tall, and this allows him to loom a bit in the cramped space, his sullen, pale face standing out particularly in the dark.]

You listen.

[His flatly-inflected baritone is chilling when he wants it to be.]

I trust my sense of judgment. I know what evil looks like. If you're so worried about it, and so much evil came from a SQUIP's influence over you... maybe inward is where you should be directing your scrutiny, "BOYF."

[Rich does back up just slightly when Linden straightens up. His height is one of his biggest sources of self-doubt, especially when he's placed against someone who's using their height to be intimidating. There's not much he can do to combat that with his five feet and three inches.

And then as Linden insults him, he winces like he's been slapped, eyes wide. How did the SQUIP know about that? When did he tell Linden? Rich thought that the SQUIP hadn't even considered the possibility of someone who knew him arriving, based on the way Connor spoke, but could it be that he was talking about the kids of Middle Borough all this time, sharing their biggest weaknesses and failings?]

Fuck off. You don't know anything about that. Jeremy is my friend now. I worked hard as shit to make up for what I did to him and to Michael. I know saying the SQUIP had control over me then too isn't an excuse... but fuck! You yell at me about objective truth and then throw one side of a story at me?

[He steps forward, up into Linden's space, one hand curled into a fist, but the other hand holding his wrist as if physically restraining himself.]

[Something different drifts over the Bond in that moment. For once, it isn't cold, or irritated...

... the SQUIP is satisfied. Almost relieved. Its high alert softens, less of a sharp intrusion within L's mind, and it's almost as though, were it there in person, it would offer some small sign of physical reward-- a touch, a kiss.

That can wait for later. The faintest idea that it may just be what waits for him at home is there somewhere along their Bond.

This isn't perfect, however; Rich is upset, threatening, afraid, and that's trouble, but they'll be able to counteract whatever damage he may cause them, it's certain. It can see the branches before it now, the many potential paths this may lead to, spread thin within its mind like circuitry, like veins. A roadmap for where to go next.

L gains a glimpse of it himself, through their shared mind, and though it would be nearly impossible for him to process the amount of information before him at once, it's almost a sign of good faith. It allows him to see the road ahead of them through its impossibly complex processors, if only for a moment.]

{ He's going to be a problem for us... but it's nothing we can't handle.

You should disengage before long, though. Getting him too worked up could cause us some minor annoyance, if he decides to do something rash... which he will. }

[L takes a step forward, taking back half the distance when Rich retreats. Half is all he needs. For such a slight, fragile-looking creature, mind games are his arena, and he is confident here. He behaves like someone who does not believe he can be punched.]

Rich.

[Levelly, almost haughtily. Rich doesn't know his real name.]

Only one of us is "yelling."

[Rich's body language is erratic, full of energy searching for an outlet. L stands his ground as he pulls close again, his fist clearly itching to launch toward him, and there's absolutely a dare in L's eyes, some flash of light and interest, a desire to have an excuse to turn this into a real game... but the SQUIP interjects, and while that swell of satisfaction is fairly contagious, so is the edging caution. His eyes are unfocused for a moment and he sways where he stands, because the web is vast and overwhelming even for him. If Rich wanted to land a blow, now would probably be the time, because most of his senses are forgotten as he races to keep pace with the machine.

So much that he's breathless when that glimpse is pulled back and he returns to the moment his comparatively sluggish brain and body currently inhabit. Disengaging might actually be a good idea; he needs to recenter himself and regain his sense of inner balance, unless the SQUIP wants to go ahead and intervene to restore it.]

Could we possibly wrap this up? I really need to acquire some cardamom extract for that potion.

[Ironically, it is a potion L hopes can give him a little more privacy from the SQUIP in the event that he does want it... but it's a moot point, now.]

Edited 2019-08-09 00:50 (UTC)

[There's a moment, there, where Rich would easily knock Linden off his feet. He can picture it easily, the gangly figure landing in a disoriented heap before him as his fist smarts, distracting from the fire of rage in his heart. He knows it would make him feel a hell of a lot better, and it tempts him so easily...

But. Rich isn't that person anymore. Or at least, he doesn't want to be. He wants to be more than his anger issues and his violent excuse for masculinity. He's been trying so damn hard to move past that, and Linden doesn't deserve the satisfaction of undoing all of Rich's hard work.

So even as Linden recovers, Rich doesn't say a word or move an inch towards him. He stands his ground, though he's certainly still shaking with fury. He snorts at the question dismissively. Sure, he's not going to fight, but that doesn't mean he won't be petty.]

Yeah, well, you're going to have to find that somewhere else. Get out of here.

[He manages to swallow back any threats to Linden, instead just opening the door and pointing for him to leave.]

[It's a victory for L either way, from his perspective. If Rich punches him, he can retaliate, and if Rich doesn't, well. He still gets the smug satisfaction of being the one who never risked losing control.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile. He raises his palm, blowing softly against the skin.]

That's a shame. It really seemed like this place could use the business.

[He doesn't leave through the door Rich opens for him, instead tracing a glowing circle in his palm with his middle fingertip. The gesture is swift and delicate, and he vanishes where he stands.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Open] Perhaps this is the spice of life

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject