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

[bleedinghare]

"—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.

[fromjapan]

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.

[bleedinghare]

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.

[fromjapan]

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.

[bleedinghare]

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.

[fromjapan]

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..."

[bleedinghare]

"―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.

[fromjapan]

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.