middaeg | my soul is so afraid to realize

Entry tags:

my soul is so afraid to realize

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.]

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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 tension melts out of her expression as it brings a hand to her cheek― giving its hand a soft squeeze as she feels her momentary flare of feelings cool and settle in her previously knotted-up belly. Adeline allows her head to loll into its touch gently, lashes fluttering closed, her free arm curling around its head.

"―you don't have to thank me― just let me repay you for caring for me," She says, her lips a soft presence against its temple. "by caring for you, and for Linden. You can't care for eachother like this."

For the first time in what seemed like ages to her, Adeline looks at its face― into its weary-looking eyes. "Is there anything I might do for you? Would you be more comfortable in bed?"

Its chest clenches at mention of L-- or his pseudonym, at least. It can't care for him now... it can't do anything for him, and would he event want it to, if it could? It isn't his SQUIP anymore. Not even slightly.

Its expression crumples for a moment, but...

"... how long... has it been?"

It doesn't know what day it is, or what time...

Noticing the shift in its expression― feeling the rise of shock creep onto her skin and into her ears, that she might notice such so freely― she raises a hand to smooth its hair, to hush it quietly.

"Today," Ada replies softly, "is the eighteenth. I arrived home yesterday, after spending two days with Nyskie― before that, it had been..."

Her brow furrows softly, her musing hum simmering into a pouty grumble. "...after that, it gets harder to remember. All I remember is a string of empty days― but they were free of anything that might mark them, other than your absence."

Its locks between her fingertips are sullied with oil, with sweat― the same that clings to its brow, its noble jawline obscured with stubble and shadow. It can't see that, but it's telling, with regard to how long it may have been. Adeline brushes the coarseness of its chin with her thumb, giving a half-smile at the difference between its appearance now and then.

"―you're in dire need of a shave, if that tells you anything of the time gone by."

It's been unconscious for days... and so has L. Concern spikes up through its core, but it tries to cover it quickly, although it doesn't at all succeed.

It... sighs, closing its eyes tightly. It's torn; misery still claws at every inch of its stomach, squeezing its lungs as it tries to breathe, and when it closes its eyes, the nothingness that lies behind them now its almost overwhelming. It opens them again, staring up at Adeline's fair features, the slightest edge of panic rising to its breathing again.

It doesn't want to close them again.

"I need to..." It breaks off, trying to push itself up to a sitting position. It needs to do... something. It can't bear the emptiness of unconsciousness or of sleep anymore, not right now.

"Shh," She hushes softly, bringing a bare palm to its chest, another lingering over its unshaven cheek. "there's nothing that need be done, darling, not by you―"

Tilting her head, a kind of fond concern rises to her cherub features. "What do you want for? Let me."

... she is... unreal. No-- that isn't true. There are humans like her; they're rare to find so genuine, rather than someone putting it on as an act for attention or affection, but Adeline is entirely sincere, and it does manage to give the SQUIP pause.

Something. Anything. It needs distraction. It needs...

It runs hands over its face, feeling how dirty its warmly-colored skin is, how scruffy its chin and jawline have become.

"... I need... a shower."

There. Something to think about, to distract it, hopefully, for a little while, at least. Sensory input that might not overwhelm, might help it focus to sort out what to... do, how to deal with what it's become.

"You do," Ada teases, however sweetly, however softly, giving a little nod of understanding. "can you stand?"

Keeping the SQUIP braced with an arm around its back, Adeline rises to stand on her knees, her free hand hanging in the air in preparation to help it were it to falter.

"―would... you like your privacy, ser, or might I help you?" Were the circumstances different, Adeline may have coloured a bit or even grinned, but― instead there's just the purest kind of empathy over her features, the bearing of a heart with a natural inclination to bleed. "You might think about it, while we get you there."

It doesn't have enough of itself present to laugh or take offense at her teasing. It simply attempts to pick itself up when she asks if it can stand-- it isn't... sure. It wasn't injured during the battle in the way others were-- Rich had landed a blow, and that still aches across its core, only mostly healed.

As it stands, it becomes acutely aware of just how much is left that needs healing, how painful and weak its body still is, and it buckles, its typical grace entirely missing as it drops itself quickly back to the bed.

"-- hah--"

Its face screws up in frustration, in pain and anger.

It's... quiet for a moment, breathing raggedly in pain and rage, until it manages to calm itself, Adeline's gentle presence helping more than it would ever admit. It glances at her, almost shameful.

"... I'm..." It breaks off, trying to retreat once more into numbness. "... I can't."

She hushes it softly at its humiliated expression― lifting one of its arms to encircle herself with it, bracing with an arm around its back and her other palm resting gently over its midsection, where it had been wounded. There's a warmth there that gives her pause... she hopes it hasn't torn something. Time will tell.

"―I won't let you fall," Adeline assures, giving a little bob of her head. "if you have the strength to try again, I'll help you."

Smiling, Ada allows her hand to press gentle circles over its spine. "It might raise your spirits to feel clean again― or, if not, it might allow you to sleep."

Its humiliation only deepens-- beneath the pain, and because of the pain, of the weakness in its body and in its mind. Its very personality feels weakened.

But it has no choice, and no mind to rebel against this. It leans against Adeline, allowing her to aid it, to talk sweetly to it. The gentle touch at its spine draws a sigh from it; it's as though its mind has been shut off, its body taking complete control of its function and its reactions.

It's simply a human. An exhausted, wounded human, leaned weakly, pathetically against the side of another, desperate for her comfort and ashamed at needing it just the same.

With a determined little huff, Adeline stands― bracing her shoulder beneath its arm, straining somewhat at how easily its full weight is pressed upon her. She doesn't have much in the way of strength, but she has enough to bear its weight, to pit her own against it, to take careful steps towards the washroom.

"―there you are," Adeline says, amidst the labour in her voice, the purposefully measured breaths she takes. "you're nearly there now, darling― only a little bit longer."

Relief comes in the form of a doorway filled with blue-and-white tiling, porcelain fixtures; giving the exhausted SQUIP a place to sit and Adeline a place to catch her breath. She smiles, a new kind of flush having overtaken her expression.

"―very good― hah," With a breathless giggle, she wipes her brow, stretches. "dearest, do you think you could bear to stand for long enough to shower, or might I draw you a bath? Whichever suits you best."

She smooths her apron, almost proudfully. "With my help, of course. I don't intend to abandon you to your devices!"

The SQUIP tries-- it tries to carry itself, and it does, to some extent, but it's so weak and uncoordinated, its built-in grace stolen away, its body seemingly having to adjust to the sensation of having muscles all over again.

"... shower," it says simply. It needs to... try. This weakness and helplessness, looking so utterly pathetic in front of her, is...

... some part of it, some remnant of what it once was, knows that Adeline's affections are only being solidified by seeing it like this. She's a soft, sympathetic heart, a caregiver by nature designed to nurture. Despite the softness of her frame, she insists on carrying this... husk, and it is appreciative of that much, yet...

Its pride feels as though it's been torn out through its chest.

"I can shower... thank you, Adeline," it says, trying to will a bit more strength into its voice, despite how dazed and distant it still seems.

"—of course!" She chimes softly, nigh-knowingly, stepping over to the shower to adjust the knobs to something warm, something welcoming before pulling the cord. Purposefully, Adeline keeps her back to it as it may have already begun undressing; she hums a little tune as she tests the water's warmth with her little hand.

Ada turns her ear towards it, but doesn't look, just in case. "Oh— would you like help undressing, dear? I don't mind— I'm not inclined to judge you, I promise you. Not in any way."

Peering over her shoulder, she notices it hasn't begun— choosing to step over to it with a smile, the soft sound of the shower warming a quietly echoing kind of white noise. Fondly, she tucks its hair into place neatly, waiting for its reply.

It blinks at her distantly, glances down at itself. It isn't even sure what it's wearing. It learns that it is no longer in the bloodied, damaged coat it was wearing when it lost consciousness; at some point, it was changed into plain, loose-fitting things, a baggy shirt and pants with loose, gentle elastic at the waist. That waist has been pulled low to leave the wounds at its midsection untouched.

... are they wrapped? It isn't actually sure. Its body feels so distant, yet heavy...

"... if you don't mind."

Wheels are starting to turn again. Some programming that it used to have, some inclination it had to keep Adeline's affections... it can no longer see every intricate nuance of what every twitch of her lips means, but it knows what its plans were, to an extent. It knows what Adeline expects of it.

With a smile, Adeline gently stoops at the waist to take the thin, loose fabric of its tunic in her hands― giving him a hushed word of command to free its arms as she gently bundles it up, making it easier to lift it up―and―over its head without worry of a snag. "There you are― this might sting just a little, but it'll be quick― I promise."

Her fingers light on its abdomen, the bandage there; a curious fingertip finds its way into a fold, gently pulling loose and unraveling. She's careful not to pull with too much force, but it isn't exactly a pleasant sensation.

"Be careful of this," She says softly, her little hand hovering over the still-healing wound. "don't lift your arms too high."

Letting her touch skim southward, Adeline fits her fingertips into the waistband of its loose-fitting trousers, kneeling to remove them― her eyes kept from wandering simply by the severity of the situation, by the terrible pity she feels. Its clothing she folds neatly, setting aside to be laundered, to be replaced with something more familiar, something from home.

She stands, one hand at its ribs, the other offered and open. "Don't stand too quickly― I don't want you to faint on me." And her smile, warm and soft and just as gentle as her touch; ever-present on her features as she aids it without judgement.

Its gaze is distant and numb as she carefully peels the wound dressing away; it tenses just a bit as the wound itself is separated from the dressing, revealing that it isn't entirely healed after all, the sharp, clean cuts red and wet beneath the gauze.

The SQUIP stares down at itself for a moment, taking the sight in-- blood, bruising, the faint, pink imprints of tightly-wound bandaging pressed into its once flawless skin. But the loss of physical attractiveness is only dimly present in its mind, underscoring to the roaring silence within its head.

It hurts. Each breath stings faintly now that the wound is exposed to air.

And then it's half-snapped out of its reverie, Adeline's hand at its ribs, requesting that it stand; her sweet, gold-framed face is gazing at it, and for a moment, it simply blinks at her dumbly.

And then it accepts her soft little hand, and it picks itself up-- shaking, wobbling, leaning against her soft, warm shape.

Her hand closed within its own now, Adeline draws their shared grasp over its midsection, half-covering its healing wound. The middlest phase of healing is certainly the least beautiful... she offers it a little frown, looking up through the usually much different space between their heights. "―don't look so closely... it might not look it, but it's healing quite nicely. You are healing quite nicely, ser."

Gently, Adeline guides it to the mouth of the shower― bathing them both in curious trails of steam, feeling gooseflesh rise on her skin as it brushes close to her cheek. Her guidance leads them to part somewhat, but she doesn't let go of its palm, even with water beginning to brush its bare shoulder opposite to her.

She smiles, an uncharacteristic shyness pricking up in her, something about the vulnerability of it all making her balk in a situation where she wouldn't often hesitate.

"...would you like me to―?" Join you? Undress? Ada swallows softly, the fingertips in the SQUIP's palm pulling with a little bob of her elbow― feeling as if she's spoken out of turn, assumed where she perhaps should not have. She presses her lips together, feeling her cheeks fill with colour, fearful of wounding the pride of an already pride-drained being.

It can't automatically predict what she's implying. That thought distresses it visibly for a moment, its brow furrowing, a hand wandering to its dirty, sleep-ruffled hair, smoothing over its handsome features, now pallid with exhaustion and pain.

It can't. It can't.

"... whatever you want," it says softly, distantly. "I can't..."

"―nothing like that," Adeline replies quietly, her hands hovering over its bare skin― but not touching, at that brief glimpse of distress. She wants to soothe it, not to push. "to help you stand, heart, not to..."

With a flustered sigh, she looks upward, relieving herself of eye-contact if only for a moment. When she meets its eyes again, she's reclaimed some of her composure. She's not used to this feeling; the― stutter there, the place between their palms where their skin meets, cool scars and the warmth of skin growing heated in friction.

"This isn't about what I want, it's about what you need," She says, soft under the ringing tones of the water. "if you need me to help you wash, I'll gladly do so. But I won't intrude― I know how it must feel..."

Her fingertips wriggle out of its grasp, left to hover over where it was once held; her posture keeps its poise, but there's a trembling hesitance in the length of her little fingers.

That wasn't... what it meant, its mind is so far from anything... well, anything at all. Everything is a gray, blurred haze coating its brain, its brain, the soft tissue that now is the only thing hosting any part of its existence here.

Her voice, her touch is a warm undercurrent, a thread of constant beneath the shifting oversaturation of its senses. It's grounding in a way that nothing else currently is-- even its Bonds are static noise, L's mind eerily quiet and Connor's--

Connor...

A sudden surge of despair arcs through its core, and it's something beyond its control, and it nearly startles it. It wavers there beneath her supporting touch, its voice gasped in a soft, shuddering sound.

"-- ah."

It's too much.

"... I..." ... it reaches out, curling its fingers at one of her arms, a silent admission that it needs her right now.

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my soul is so afraid to realize

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