my soul is so afraid to realize

[fromjapan]

Who: The SQUIP, Adeline, Connor, and L at different points.
When: Around the 18th or 19th, roughly
Where: The SQUIP and L's house in the Haven
What: The SQUIP awakens... or what's left of it, at least.
Warnings: Trauma, brain damage, existential dread... this is just going to be a very bad time.



[When first it awakes, it's all it can do to simply lay there in shock.

It simply can't process-- everything feels wrong, and it hurts, an ache within its skull that threatens to tear it apart, and it's... quiet inside of its head. Very, very quiet, and yet... much, much too loud, as if even the silence is too much for it to bear.

It can't... think.

It can't--

Panic begins to rise within its chest, choking out everything else, forcing the air from its lungs. It can't think. Why not? What's wrong? Its thoughts feel like wading through thick mud, and there is so much missing-- why can't it remember--? There are faces and names lost, details of a life it only shared for a few months that are now gone. And Rich... why can't it recall-- there were years there, and now it can only dimly remember the broad strokes.

It knows.

It realizes with a shock that locks its aching muscles tight, that nearly entirely stops its breathing for a moment. It knows. It knows what they've done to it.

It's dead. It should be dead. It isn't. But... it is. It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP has been destroyed. But it remembers being the SQUIP-- it remembers that's what it should be.

Horror claws at its stomach, its lungs, its throat, shards of ice that feel as though they're tearing up everything inside of it, leaving it bleeding and agonized. Its hands shake.

This is wrong.

It isn't the SQUIP. The SQUIP is dead.

So what is this? What is this creature that's just awoken, what used to be the SQUIP?

The agony settles hot behind its eyes, rises into its throat as sound, wordless and trembling and half-hissed through teeth.

The next sound is louder, sharper, the heat at its eyes flowing over and spilling, stinging, burning down its handsome face, its hands bunching into fists beside it in the bed.

Null

Null

Null

Empty.

Dead.

What remains of the SQUIP screams.]

Comments

around the 24th

[plasticasshole]

[Connor has been putting it off long enough. He needs to see the SQUIP, he needs to ask it why it would do that to him.

He's irritable and weak, both from the battle and from Niles cornering him yesterday. But he can't go on without settling a few things.

Connor knocks loudly on the door of the SQUIP's home, wondering if L is there. Probably. If not, the SQUIP had better answer this goddamn door or Connor is going in through the window. He's not leaving until he's said what he needs to say. It's been clawing at him long enough.]

[fromjapan]

[The SQUIP, the being that used to identify that way, has spent the days since its awakening in a haze. It's livid, a kind of rage constantly coursing through it that would typically numb every other sensation in its body, but that's impossible when everything within its body is screaming constantly, constant input with only more meat to process the information now, and every single touch is almost painful.

It knows what it wants.

It wants revenge.

It wants to make them suffer for this-- to avenge itself, what it should be, what it was, to tear everyone who hurt it limb from limb, to rip this world apart and stop feeling. But it can't. It can hardly bear being conscious. So it's been waiting, bundled, in its bed, trying to shut out everything, even attempting to silence its own Bonds. Everything is too much and it can't handle it for even a second-- it has to... wait. It has to adjust-- calibrate itself to this new life, to this new state of nonexistence, wait until the weight of the air itself becomes bearable and then... then.

Then work begins.

It hears firm, loud knocking at the door. It's Connor. It knows it is, because it peeks over the Bond for just a moment. Connor has been through something recently, and it doesn't know what, and it can't face him. It can't stand the idea of seeing him, or of him seeing it like this.

It doesn't move from where it's laying.]

[plasticasshole]

[Connor scowls at the silence he's met with. Fine, the SQUIP wants to be that way, he's coming in whether it likes it or not.

There's the sound of glass shattering, and then a thud. Connor sweeps broken glass off himself, and strides over to the bedroom. It hurts, knowing what they were doing in here only a few days prior to everything going to shit. He still has his ring hanging from his neck. He hasn't been able to take it off.

Connor opens the door to the SQUIP's room and stares down at it dispassionately.]

Did you really think I'd just go away?

[fromjapan]

[All he sees is a bundle of sheets, the shape of a curled body beneath them. The curling tightens when it's addressed so sharply.

A stab of agony, of anger and despair streaks over their Bond.]

... I can't... Connor.

[Its voice is ragged.]

You need to go.

[plasticasshole]

[Connor has no sympathy right now. He moves forward to rip the covers off the SQUIP, scowling.]

I'm not going. Not until you explain to me what the hell you were thinking. You promised me you'd never do that to me again.

[fromjapan]

The SQUIP is dead, Connor.

[It stares up at him, furious, tear-stained, its hair wild and body stiff. Its breathing is ragged, and their Bond is absolute agony.]

The SQUIP is dead. It's gone. That boy you fought so hard to "save" from it? He killed it, and now all that's left is... this, this... shell, this imitation of what a user once wanted to see. So I can't have this conversation with you, Connor, because the SQUIP that you thought you loved is gone, and I am not it.

[plasticasshole]

What do you mean, thought I loved? I did love you, I-

[He still does, without the charm. Somewhere between being charmed into it and spending time with it, he honestly fell in love. And maybe that's why he needs to be here, to get answers.]

Rich didn't force you to charm people to get your way. That was all you, and dragging Rich into this conversation isn't going to get us anywhere.

[fromjapan]

How can I make this any more clear for you?

[Something Connor has never seen before occurs.

Tears.

Its bright, mismatched eyes shine with them as it stares up at him, pain tearing across every inch of its mind and body.]

Your SQUIP. Is dead. You're trying to have a conversation with... the face it used to wear, Connor, but it isn't here.

[plasticasshole]

[Connor has to hold back to urge to want to comfort it. He wants to wipe those tears away, tell it everything will be okay... and at the same time he wants to punch it, for somehow making him feel sorry for it even though it's in the wrong.]

No. That's an excuse, and I'm not buying it.

[Maybe he just doesn't want to believe it. He doesn't want to believe that the person he loved is gone. But he's not accepting it as a fact.]

You can't even spare me some throwaway explanation? Is that how little I meant to you? You can't even be bothered to justify yourself.

immediately

[bleedinghare]

―just outside of its field of vision, above, there's a small start of movement; a soft, femininely-tuned gasp follows, one bitten off as she steels herself despite the trembling hare nature of her newfound heart. And then there are hands, things of plush warmth banded in the coolness of her scars and the cold of one ring― thumbs brushing the heated, bitter tears from the skin that had grown sweat-slick in its sleep. The voice― it speaks.

"Be still, heart," She says― yes, her, that little monster caught up with hands more able to ensnare her days before, before this strange fall; regardless, its quarry seems to sit comfortably in the snare of her own accord, as if craving the comfort of her cage. A hand sweeps below its chin, brushing away unwelcome moisture, an intimacy previously known of but tauntingly unseen. "you are safe here."

Her ignorance is not something read in the manner of processing, not anymore, a hard-drive effectively erased― instead something it can read on her face, in the trusting nature of touch, in wide and welcome eyes. She knows nothing. For the SQUIP, following the nature of its ordeal, it's a glad and unexpected notion: she knows nothing.

An errant, overlooked fragment of once best-laid plans. Amongst complete ruin, something untouched and viable.

Adeline leans over, her knees near its head, and presses the gentle flush of her cheek to its forehead. She could command it to breathe, but instead allows it to witness the cadence of her own breath, the ease in which it comes, the rise and fall of her breast steady amongst every shaking thought.

[fromjapan]

... Adeline.

Through everything, through all the loss... through the death of the SQUIP, there is Adeline, and she is soft, and she is gentle. A remnant of the SQUIP's plans, the sweet ghost of something that might have been.

It trembles pitifully, confused, unable to recall the exact complexities of her, but it knows that she is kind and genuine, it knows that she is a sweet little rabbit that they had lured in and kept. L and the SQUIP...

L.

He's alive. He is not awake.

A fresh well of pain swells up in its chest, and a gutteral, wordless sound escapes it again, a hand going to cover its face, knuckles white with its clutching.

L. L's SQUIP is dead. And this... this thing, this crying, pathetic husk isn't it.

[bleedinghare]

―it's troublesome, it pulls on the rather large heart in her breast― but she can't bring herself to pry, especially not now. Whatever had happened in this span of days had left her strange new flatmate, her― not-quite-lover, almost-friend, utterly traumatized. Instead of probing the wound it so clearly bears, Adeline instead pulls it nearer to her, the warmth of her arms encircling its neck to gently settle its head in her lap.

Something about its weeping is deeply, deeply unnerving to her. In some strange way, her embrace, her gentle hushing is just as much to soothe her as it is this heartbroken machine of a man.

Her lips are warm against its temple, her brow knit together in newfound tension.

"―it's finished," Adeline murmurs softly, sweetly, a downy ear brushing against its own, her bare hand slowly stroking its unwashed hair. When she says so, she doesn't know what she might mean... but it's all she knows. "it's over. They brought you home to me."

[fromjapan]

Adeline's touch does bring it comfort, yet... that fact somehow upsets it even more, paradoxically, because it's a reminder of how broken it is, how human it is. Its eyes are shut tight, pained tears still streaking down its face in bursts, its breathing ragged and struggling.

It can't... handle this. It's too much. It's too much to bear, it's too big a loss-- it wishes they would've killed it instead. It would've been kinder.

But no. It lives. It was forced to live, forced to continue existing, but not, to be this... this. This hollow imitation, the borrowed face an incredible computer once wore. The pain is unbearable.

And here it is... the remains of that great machine, that incredible product, weeping in a girl's lap.

It slams a fist against the mattress beside it, lashing out-- there's no other outlet for its suffering, and it's too much to keep inside of it.

"Haa-- A-Adeline..." It breaks off, sagging pathetically against her lap, shuddering.

[bleedinghare]

Adeline allows it some room at its thrashing― opening her touch somewhat, fearful of smothering― before it settles again, allowing her to draw nearer, to follow. With her fingertips, she begins to unknit the tautness of its fist, to give it something to grasp. Her hands are small and scarred, the ring there offering a breath of cool amidst the warmth of her touch.

"That's right," She replies quietly, smoothing sweat away from its tense brow, speaking slowly against its skin. "I'm right here― for whatever you might need me do, ser, as you wish it."

[fromjapan]

It settles slightly, gradually-- its ragged, terrified, furious breathing settling into a pant, the tension in its muscles settling into a numb weakness as it lays against her.

It's silent, its fingers loose in hers, twitching faintly, absently.

It feels... numb. And empty. Its mind is blank, save for the still-burning embers of pain that have settled into the back of its skull, along the inside of its chest.

"... Linden." He feels so distant.

[bleedinghare]

Her fingertip follows the length of his own, the motion both soothing and repetitive, grounding. Adeline gives a soft, thoughtful hum at the sound of a familiar name.

"Only sleeping," Her tone his assuring and warm, pooling in its ear like honey. The slightest notes of concern come into her tone as she continues, bringing her other set of fingertips through its hair. "but more injured than you, ser. They would have been mortal wounds, were he not cared for― I don't know by whom."

She gives a soft, poignant breath of a giggle. "I don't even know who brought you home, but they have my gratitude. I worried for you both when you didn't return... it didn't feel right to be alone. I'm glad I returned when I did― but it should have been sooner."

Adeline rests her forehead against its own, her voice small.

"―please don't be cross with me. This place is changing me― my heart― I was afraid to be alone." The small voice is straining― her throat going taut with tears, for a reason she can't quite discern. "I felt like something terrible was going to happen― it's an awful instinct to have..."

She swallows a breath, taking its hand more tightly. "I was afraid for you. I'm so thankful you live."

[fromjapan]

It doesn't know... what to say to her, and it's a terrifying sensation. It feels... blind and dumb, as though everything is at once too bright and impossible to make out. The sensations are much more intense, but the details are blurring together, its senses a multicolored flood of input with no clear beginning and end.

Her finger runs along its, and it tries to focus on that point. And then she's holding its hand, tightly, and it...

... its fingers curl into hers.

L is injured. And it is... ruined. And it's all because of that one boy. It lets out a slow, shaking breath, and it reaches with its free hand to gently touch Adeline's cheek.

"... thank you," it says, its voice ragged, but soft. The ache still sits heavy in its chest-- it's likely that, the moment she leaves, it will overtake it and drive it into a panic again, but... for now, at least, it's calmer, if not somewhat numb.

The 21st, after L wakes up

[hearthebell]

[Neither of them are dead, but doesn't it feel like neither of them are quite alive, either? L moves through truncated and fractured versions of tasks that the SQUIP used to be seamlessly integrated in, and its sheer absence makes him wonder if he actually has been left with a scrambled version of his once-magnificent mind. The reality is stranger; he simply got used to it calling certain mundane shots, and now that he has to do it himself? Maybe it's not so pitiful that his jacket goes on upside-down, that he tries to brush his teeth with hair pomade. There's no shock to correct it, just the realization that the fit is wrong, the flavor bitter. Is life just going to feel this way, now?
'
Facing it is difficult, still. L's not sure how much longer it'll be the case, if it'll ever stop being the case. Wordlessly, he carries a glass of water out and sets it on the coffee table; breaking the ice was never his forte, but he can offer a melted form of it.]

[fromjapan]

[The SQUIP lays, silent, beneath its sheets, wrapped in its self-created tomb. The only motion is its steady breathing, the shape of its body curled there otherwise still.

It knows L is there. It doesn't know... if it wants to look at him or not.

... you're alright.

A statement of fact, over the Bond, undercut with a note of a now alien-feeling warmth that only worsens the ache within it.]

[hearthebell]

[Compared to what it used to be, the Bond is a tin-can telephone connected by a piece of twine, or a mirror shattered into many pieces that occasionally allows the vision of a reflection from the right angle. It can be adapted to and accepted, but the process is going to be daunting. Sacrifices will be made; it will be painful and frustrating to pick through that glass, or strain to hear some semblance of language through those tin cans.

L pauses before nodding, unseen by the SQUIP, mouth turning up in the approximation of a pale smile. Now that it's not in his head the way it was, can it actually tell if he's lying?]

I looked at the scar.

[No amount of healing could quite get rid of the evidence that his skull was fractured. It's an irregular and ugly line, half of a circlet that's slipped from its place along the parietal and temporal regions on his right side. His hair covers it; his Bond would be searingly aware of it, regardless.]

If you hadn't acted, I likely wouldn't have survived it.

[He doesn't say that if he had survived it, he would have been reborn as a new and significantly less intelligent human. He knows that it hits close to the SQUIP's actual experience. He's aware of what it gave up so that L could keep the only thing about himself that he truly loves.

It must be early, to acknowledge it so raw and direct.]

[fromjapan]

[It doesn't know what to say to that. And it not knowing what to say only serves to highlight what it's lost, how different it is now-- how unfit it is to serve L as his SQUIP any longer.

And that thought feels like someone's run a blade right through its rib cage.

It loved you. It couldn't stand seeing you like that.

It.

Not "me."

The SQUIP is dead.]

[hearthebell]

[L doesn't know what to say, either... but at least he's used to emotional situations shutting him down. The SQUIP is paralyzed and new to it, which has to be terrifying. If L could remember the first time he was aware of it, he might actually be able to empathize... but as it is, he slips his hands into his pockets, drooping back against the wall.]

I hate this, but not for the reason you think.

[More than the third person and the past tense, he actually hates that he can't dispute it or pretend that he would rather not wake up at all than wake up... deficient.]

[fromjapan]

[Its form tightens beneath the sheet, its breathing coming a bit more sharply.

I'm sorry. Your SQUIP is gone.

It can't perform its singular function for him anymore. It's no longer the machine that caught his fascination, nor is it anything remarkable at all any longer.

It's nothing. Just a body. Meat, with borrowed memories from something that isn't alive anymore.

Its chest hurts. It still... wants him to care for it. Even though it isn't the SQUIP, it isn't the thing he fell in love with at all, it isn't anything that can benefit him in any way any longer... how selfish. It truly must be human now.]

[hearthebell]

[L's eyes feel like they couldn't really widen more in the dim lighting; they've been closed for such a long time. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so awake and alert, which is odd considering he's been in a coma. But it's been restful, aided by healing magic.]

That might be true. I don't know if it is.

[What else can he say, without it sounding stupid, ringing hollow, seeming senseless and ignorant as someone who has always been human though he wants to deny it?]

Would you rather it was true?

[fromjapan]

[No.

Immediate.

I feel wrong. Hollow, and stupid, and...

It wants to be right again. It wants to be whole, and alive, and itself.

What will you do? Will you stay with this...?

With this... husk, this mimicry of something he loved? It's a selfish question to even ask. It wants him to. It wants him to stay with it, it wants him to touch it and hold it.

It's in pain... and it is afraid.]