hearthebell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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middaeg2019-10-25 02:20 pm
hearthebell) wrote in middaeg2019-10-25 02:20 pm
[OPEN] The Stars, The Moon, They Have All Been Blown Out
Who: L Lawliet and YOU (some open prompts, some semi-open)
When: Octeuril 21 through the end of the month
Where: Around Geardagas
What: Waking up to find that he doesn't have permanent severe brain damage is tempered by realizing and processing that his Bonded actually does.
Warnings: References to violent events, angst, will update if necessary
A. Octeuril 21, The Cottage (Open to residents, visitors and healers)
[It's been a week since Myr's desperate attack had thrown blackout curtains over L's senses and thoughts, further complicated by the violent fundamental alteration of his Bonded. He'd received prompt healing to his head and ribs that made the overall prognosis hopeful, and has been cared for and kept comfortable enough, but the fact of the matter is that Connor woke up, and then the SQUIP, but trailing behind them, L just didn't. Frequent doses of healing magic can help, but not change, the fact that the brain is complex and fragile, and rebuilding and repairing it can take time with even skilled and careful intervention.
For seven days and nights, he's been sleeping it off, recuperating in the quiet and subtle ways that make the biggest collective difference. Eventually, the culmination amounts to "enough", and with no trigger, catalyst or warning, he sits up in bed with no memory of how he got there.
So, start from the beginning.
Who? The SQUIP. Rich. Niles, Michael, Jeremy, Connor and Justine. Myr.
What? The Bond is different. The Bond has changed. The SQUIP has changed.
Where? Just outside. There was blood on the pavement.
When? Too long ago. So much has happened.
Why? It had to be stopped.
How? Fingertips explore the tender place where a skull was broken, has begun to mend in earnest. Clear enough, somehow... with no small measure of disquietment, L understands that he should probably be a vegetable. Someone, or several someones, have been working on ensuring that he woke up with the one thing he couldn't live without intact. How long is the list of names? How many people does L theoretically owe his life to, now?]
Is someone there?
[A week in bed has him anxious to get to his feet again, but... oh, slow, it's a head rush just to put them on the floor while he remains seated. He's hungry, and though either magic or gentle attentive hands have been keeping his body free of grime, he wants to bathe badly.]
Please tell me what's happened.
[He'll settle for anyone, the first person he lays eyes on. Friend or foe, he has to know; he isn't usually the last, this way.]
B. The Coven (Open)
[Getting back to some semblance of an ordinary life means returning to old familiar habits. The things that L's grey matter remembers so well it's second nature are, quite simply, folding into the sanctuary of committed study, and while the new and far more human SQUIP needs him in ways it didn't used to, that's still overwhelming. Latching onto L as a fellow human who can guide it through this transition is a mistake; whether or not it's a birthright, L was never very good at being human. It's the reason he considered a machine safe, and now that it's distraught and tormented and volatile, all on account of its reaction to his injury.
Books and scrolls are stacked high at his side, and he's working on a new set of runes. A jeweler's magnifying lens is held against his eye as he carefully etches them into pieces of scrap metal bent into the crude shape of a ring. These are just practice goes, of course, but some of them are promising. He places them in one pile; a far larger pile of rejects is littering the floor around the legs of his chair.
He glances your way, shoulders curling, seeming to grow a touch more protective of his work. Lately, he can only assume that others want to take things from him that bring him some small semblance of happiness.]
C. The Sly Seadog- Samuin (Open)
[Then, of course, there are the things that are not familiar at all. A mind is more than just a collection of memories and compiled facts; it has to adapt and respond and arrange data into solutions, and while working in a controlled and quiet environment is one way to test that, L can't think of a better scenario than this one to put himself through his paces.
The SQUIP can't help him the way it used to. He feels, in many ways, like a child about to cross the street for the first time without holding his caretaker's hand.]
Buy me a shot of liquor.
[He's addressing you. Maybe you know each other and he genuinely feels you owe it to him; maybe you're strangers and he is just testing the baseline for any kind of natural charisma he may possess in this capacity. Either way, he's getting some looks from a few of the bar's rowdier-looking individuals, and deigns to add]
...please.
D. WILDCARD
[Don't see it? Want it? Well, COOL, in all likelihood I do too but just didn't think to include it. Write your own prompt and I'll roll with it, or hit me up on plurk at lexil or on discord at ladylazarus#2235!]
When: Octeuril 21 through the end of the month
Where: Around Geardagas
What: Waking up to find that he doesn't have permanent severe brain damage is tempered by realizing and processing that his Bonded actually does.
Warnings: References to violent events, angst, will update if necessary
A. Octeuril 21, The Cottage (Open to residents, visitors and healers)
[It's been a week since Myr's desperate attack had thrown blackout curtains over L's senses and thoughts, further complicated by the violent fundamental alteration of his Bonded. He'd received prompt healing to his head and ribs that made the overall prognosis hopeful, and has been cared for and kept comfortable enough, but the fact of the matter is that Connor woke up, and then the SQUIP, but trailing behind them, L just didn't. Frequent doses of healing magic can help, but not change, the fact that the brain is complex and fragile, and rebuilding and repairing it can take time with even skilled and careful intervention.
For seven days and nights, he's been sleeping it off, recuperating in the quiet and subtle ways that make the biggest collective difference. Eventually, the culmination amounts to "enough", and with no trigger, catalyst or warning, he sits up in bed with no memory of how he got there.
So, start from the beginning.
Who? The SQUIP. Rich. Niles, Michael, Jeremy, Connor and Justine. Myr.
What? The Bond is different. The Bond has changed. The SQUIP has changed.
Where? Just outside. There was blood on the pavement.
When? Too long ago. So much has happened.
Why? It had to be stopped.
How? Fingertips explore the tender place where a skull was broken, has begun to mend in earnest. Clear enough, somehow... with no small measure of disquietment, L understands that he should probably be a vegetable. Someone, or several someones, have been working on ensuring that he woke up with the one thing he couldn't live without intact. How long is the list of names? How many people does L theoretically owe his life to, now?]
Is someone there?
[A week in bed has him anxious to get to his feet again, but... oh, slow, it's a head rush just to put them on the floor while he remains seated. He's hungry, and though either magic or gentle attentive hands have been keeping his body free of grime, he wants to bathe badly.]
Please tell me what's happened.
[He'll settle for anyone, the first person he lays eyes on. Friend or foe, he has to know; he isn't usually the last, this way.]
B. The Coven (Open)
[Getting back to some semblance of an ordinary life means returning to old familiar habits. The things that L's grey matter remembers so well it's second nature are, quite simply, folding into the sanctuary of committed study, and while the new and far more human SQUIP needs him in ways it didn't used to, that's still overwhelming. Latching onto L as a fellow human who can guide it through this transition is a mistake; whether or not it's a birthright, L was never very good at being human. It's the reason he considered a machine safe, and now that it's distraught and tormented and volatile, all on account of its reaction to his injury.
Books and scrolls are stacked high at his side, and he's working on a new set of runes. A jeweler's magnifying lens is held against his eye as he carefully etches them into pieces of scrap metal bent into the crude shape of a ring. These are just practice goes, of course, but some of them are promising. He places them in one pile; a far larger pile of rejects is littering the floor around the legs of his chair.
He glances your way, shoulders curling, seeming to grow a touch more protective of his work. Lately, he can only assume that others want to take things from him that bring him some small semblance of happiness.]
C. The Sly Seadog- Samuin (Open)
[Then, of course, there are the things that are not familiar at all. A mind is more than just a collection of memories and compiled facts; it has to adapt and respond and arrange data into solutions, and while working in a controlled and quiet environment is one way to test that, L can't think of a better scenario than this one to put himself through his paces.
The SQUIP can't help him the way it used to. He feels, in many ways, like a child about to cross the street for the first time without holding his caretaker's hand.]
Buy me a shot of liquor.
[He's addressing you. Maybe you know each other and he genuinely feels you owe it to him; maybe you're strangers and he is just testing the baseline for any kind of natural charisma he may possess in this capacity. Either way, he's getting some looks from a few of the bar's rowdier-looking individuals, and deigns to add]
...please.
D. WILDCARD
[Don't see it? Want it? Well, COOL, in all likelihood I do too but just didn't think to include it. Write your own prompt and I'll roll with it, or hit me up on plurk at lexil or on discord at ladylazarus#2235!]
no subject
[Knowing what he does of Niles, L can't help but wonder how much of it was motivated by genuine helpfulness and how much was motivated by continuing to see the android in pain.]
He doesn't have a Bond... or he didn't, the last time I spoke with him. It was probably a matter of time, but...
[He falters. He knows that intelligence alone isn't enough to ensure that a person lines up everything they require for survival or sanity. He is, himself, a prime example of it.]
no subject
[And, more importantly, there's nothing stopping Niles from attacking Connor again just to see him bleed blue.]
Whether or not he listens to me is... well, we'll see.
[He might need to consider carrying his pistol with him more often. He hesitates before asking his next question.]
How is the SQUIP?
no subject
The SQUIP is...
[Dead? L doesn't think so; then again he doesn't know, and the SQUIP had spoken with such conviction on the matter. Maybe it was the truth.]
It's been difficult, for reasons you can likely surmise through your own logic and knowledge of it.
no subject
I'm... sorry about your window. I had to see the SQUIP, and I didn't want to give myself the chance to put it off even longer. I assume it was easy enough to repair, but if you'd like me to pay you for it, I can.
[There's no CyberLife here to pay for the damages this time, so Connor feels it's only right that he offer himself. Back on topic, though-]
I can see things are hard for it.
[To put it lightly. He never thought the confident, self-assured SQUIP he'd come to know could be brought so low.]
I still... don't know how I feel about it.
no subject
No... please don't concern yourself with that. It's unnecessary.
[Robotic enough to win an award, truly, if such things could be said to exist. Why is it so easy to feel inadequate and shamed in the presence of true mechanical men?]
Are you here, partly, to ask me what I think you should feel about it? Or...
[He's uncertain. Certainly unqualified. He can't imagine that's what Connor might ask for... but is it possible that's the case?]
no subject
[He looks lost, and miserable. At this point, he would accept advice from even an... admittedly emotionally stunted man like L. He's intelligent, though. And maybe a fresh set of eyes would help?
...Maybe he's just hoping to hear something that isn't "dump it" or "you probably have Stockholm Syndrome."]
no subject
I could try to offer what insight I can, but...
[There's no simple, easy way to say "this has been difficult for me, too" without compromising the all-important pride that governs so much of what L does and says.]
It's angry. As much as anyone would be, following what amounts to an involuntary lobotomy.
no subject
[Connor gets that Rich was trying to save his friend, but at the same time it was clear the SQUIP was under the effects of the mist. It didn't deserve such a brutal attack.]
Do you think it'll try to retaliate?
[Connor would honestly not blame it, but he doesn't want to see Rich get hurt.]
no subject
[He sighs shallowly.]
Sorry. I don't know how you are at detecting sarcasm, but that was a point in case. And no... I don't...
[He's not sure. The SQUIP is declawed... but also furious.]
I don't believe it will try, but...
[Could you really blame it?]
no subject
[He's not sure if he can forgive it yet. Still, he doesn't want it to get hurt any more than it already has been.]
I'll ask Justine to keep an eye on Rich, too. If she won't do it for the SQUIP any more, she'll do it for Rich's sake. It could get ugly if they run into each other.
[Providing the SQUIP ever leaves its house again.]
no subject
Don't trouble yourself with its needs at this time... you can rely on me to be present and accountable.
[Even though he's exhausted and still recovering in his own right, it seems like his responsibility. It would actually feel wrong to let someone else take over in that regard.]
no subject
Good.
[Connor sighs.]
I... should get going. But thank you for the talk. I have a lot to think about.
[Like if he should break his Bond with the SQUIP or not. He's still leaning towards no, but nobody he speaks to seems to think the SQUIP deserves a second chance.]