acatalepsy_logs | ( the sickness: phase two )

( the sickness: phase two )

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the sickness ends.

the temple.

The Temple, shortly after Astoria's burst of energy, is in a constant state of growth. Trees are bursting into existence from seeds in mere seconds, flowers are growing wherever magic lands . . . and the Temple is abruptly a-buzz with energy, magic crackling throughout the air. You may find a tree in your house, or flowers suddenly growing along the walls, or plants wiggling their way through the stone walls of the buildings of the Temple. All of a sudden, the place looks very overgrown.

The Forest of the Fey seems to be responding in kind, too. Sprites are exceptionally active, darting out of the Forest and into the Temple with increasingly regularity, playing basic little tricks on the members of the Circle they can find. Flower crowns are made at an alarming rate, and there might be a few fruit-food fights that break out with the sudden abundance of peaches and apples that appear on the grounds. Learn how to duck!

With the magic comes the sudden fluctuation of energy: canon powers flicker on and off, as do the powers granted by Astoria. You feel more like yourself, you suddenly have access to energies you did not have previously in the Temple However, it's a double-edged sword -- it is not constant, and it may be more trouble than its worth.

And, remember: the Sickness is not fading immediately. If you make it to Stage 3, then you're stuck with sensory deprivation for at least another week or two. Sorry, friends.

lake dona.

Lake Dona is a massive body of water, stretching outward for so far that it almost seems like an ocean until you see that the water is fresh. It is surrounded by long, leafy trees that dip into the water and has a variety of ancient ruins scattered around it -- weathered stones set into circles at seemingly even intervals, old buildings that seem to mirror the Temple in construct.

In addition to the ruins, there are a network of caverns tucked along the water’s edge, just underneath the surface on the western side of Lake Dona, that appear to go underground into murky darkness. The actual entrance to these caverns seem to be underwater, seemingly guarded by merfolk, but poking around may seem to be more trouble than its worth.

There is plenty of wildlife to be found within the lake itself, ranging from freshwater mermaids who would rather you stay the hell out of their backyard to a rather large and suspiciously friendly plesiosaurus-like creature (some would say that she prefers to be called Nessie) that seems intent on checking out who you are. The lake teems with odd-looking fish, most of which seem to be okay to eat, and plenty of plant life! But who knows what lurks in the depths below . . . that giant sea-monster looking thing has to be eating something.
PROMPT IDEAS: Here are some prompt ideas for this new area! However, don't feel limited to such ideas! Feel free to fish, to explore, to swim, to poke around . . . it's always possible Astoria may check in on your character, too, once she is feeling better! ;)

1.) The Great Pumpkin The overgrowth of plants have caused a massive growth spurt in a lot of the trees, including the fruit trees that sprinkle themselves throughout the Temple. However, the fruit themselves seems to be growing at a rather . . . alarming rate, resulting in a few pumpkin-looking squash growing to the size of small boulders in the fields. Hope you have a lot of spare time on your hands to make a hell of a lot of Temple-pie, because these squash aren't going anywhere anytime soon.

2.) Food Fight!: Those damn sprites are at it again, and are collecting fruit off the ground and throwing it at people. Fight back, organize, and conquer! Or not. It's probably better to just not.

3.) Part Of Your World: The mermaids within Lake Dona are a suspicious lot, and they don't take kindly to strangers stomping through their territory. However, they are receptive to music, so if you are so musically inclined, they will definitely be more inclined to be a little more playful than territorial. If you aren't? Have fun getting tossed into the lake head-first by a bunch of pissed off mermaids who want you to get the hell of their lawn. They don't take kindly to your type around here.

4.) Nessie: Within Lake Dona is a massive plesiosaurus-type creature which seems to be . . . oddly friendly? It seems to pop up at the most inconvenient of times. Are you sitting on the edge of the lake enjoying the water? Enjoy a massive ass dinosaur sticking its impressively long neck out of the lake to check you out and also scare the bejesus out of you. That being said, Nessie is an extraordinarily friendly being, and will even give you laps around the lake if you ask nicely!

5.) Caverns: The caverns within the lake are dark, deep, and menacing The merfolk inform you that you cannot go there -- no one can, but the merfolk sure seem to be keeping a careful eye out on it. Testing the boundaries indicates a weird magical field around the entrance of the cave, that works like a bit of a forcefield. Weird, right?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hank's quiet a second, processing the topic switch. Then he laughs, the sound high and giggly, not hysterical but definitely on its way.]

You're saying my- my magic fucking power is pissing you off?

[He laughs some more, then spends a few seconds swallowing the laughter down.]

Shit, that'd be the cherry on top of this nightmare sundae. You really think you should be near me if I'm so...

[He waves a hand in the air vaguely, then drops it back down to the grass.]

So magical?

[A frown of disapproval settles into his features, and Connor shakes his head.]

Why wouldn't I be? If I know the cause, I can deal with the consequences with a much clearer head.

[He drops his hand from petting Sumo, and continues.] It only makes sense, after all. We've all been granted an ability, and going over the scene in my head, I think it was your touch that triggered it.

Christ, you're serious.

[Hank puts a hand over his mouth, realizes what he's doing, and actually laughs, not feeling - of course - his hand when it slides down off his face to wherever it's going. He can keep trying to block out whatever senses he's got left, one by one, but he has a feeling it's not going to make Connor go away. Not Connor. And not this place, either.]

Of course you're fucking serious. So it's just... you get pissed off when I touch you, that's your big idea? That's my whole special thing? [He makes a breathy, amused noise.] Perfect. Well, it's only logical. What the fuck else would it be?

[Welp. None of this is going to stop, and nothing is going to make it go away. Hank knows what this is a job for. Hank rolls himself up to probably his elbows, and takes a few clumsy tries to accomplish the various steps involved in standing up. His elbows slip from under him, his hands don't go in the right places to support him unless he watches them move. But his goal's worth it. As soon as he stands he walks off, leaving Sumo looking after him, Sumo's ears up and alert as they ever get, watching Hank leave.]

Well, risk it or don't. You're gonna do whatever you think you gotta anyway, so.

[Hank waves a hand around, not in an inviting way. Just, in a way. Whatever. If Connor wants to walk toward the temple with him or, hell, even go into his room with him, there's jack shit Hank can do about it.]

[Connor’s up on his feet in half that time, and picks up his pace to trail behind him, as if he were a second pet of the Lieutenant’s.]

No. Not like that. Not “pissed off”.

[His LED circles several times, his voice raising as if it’ll catch Hank’s attention.]

Or rather, just whatever it is you feel or are experiencing at the time, you transfer to me. It isn’t unlike what androids are able to do, if you think of it that way. I’m surprised I hadn’t made the correlation sooner.

[Briefly, Connor glances back at Sumo, and makes a small little gesture for the dog to follow.]

That’s my working theory, anyway.

[At Connor's gesture Sumo shakes himself, shaking off whatever hints of water and mud Connor might have gotten on him, then follows. If Connor's Hank's second pet Connor's the more eager one; Sumo shows no sign of trying to match Hank's quick, almost angry pace, and might soon start to fall a little behind.]

Working theory, huh? Your software has a little moment and now I'm some kind of- What's the point of that, even? Does your big working theory account for how stupid that would be? If that was my- you know, my- [His power. His magical fucking power. Sometimes he can say that like it's a real thing that, while stupid, makes some kind of sense. Right now he can't.] You know. I mean, that'd be pointless. What makes you so sure it was even me, you sure you didn't just get some freaky error messages and would rather think I can do your freaky android shit than admit you need to be debugged?

Edited (nitpicking DX) 2018-09-24 13:46 (UTC)

[His retort is quick, almost clipped, as it always seems to be when Hank implies that there’s an internal problem with Connor himself, not born of some outside interference.]

It isn’t an unreasonable leap of logic. Everyone here has been given an ability by Astoria, even if some of them sound farfetched or nonsensical.

[Connor can turn into a canine, Hank. (Not that the man is aware of it.) Come on, now.]

I don’t receive errors without reason. Preferably I do not receive errors at all. If you’re skeptical, then why don’t you experiment?

Look at you, 'Preferably, I'm perfect.'

[He's quiet a second, making his way to the end of the lake and past it. He takes a breath, not looking toward Connor, just focusing on the temple in the distance.]

What is there to experiment with? I don't even know what you think I did, all I know is I touched you, you felt some weird shit and got crabby, how am I supposed to repeat that? I don't even know what you felt.

[The criticism lands, but isn’t parsed in a way that’s satisfactory to Connor. Of course he’d prefer to not be without errors, of course he’s want to be “perfect” and function as he was supposed to. He doesn’t know why that’s worthy of patronization when humans possess a similar want for their bodies and minds to work properly, too.

Connor ignores it, for now.]

Then if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. There’s nothing to be done about that. But if it does, wouldn’t you want to know? To be familiar with what was given to you?

[He catches up to the point where he’s walking side-by-side with Hank, that frank stubbornness of his flaring.]

It’d be easy enough to test. You would just have to touch me, and try to remember what it was you were thinking or feeling at the time. I can attempt to verify if something does happen as a result.

[Hank hunches his shoulders when Connor makes it up next to him, that little lurking thought knocking on the inside of his brain, the memory of being surrounded by the nothing that's supposed to be water, unmoored from everything, pressure on his back steering him and the thought, when he lets go, I think I'll actually miss it.'

Hank leans away, taking half a step to the side to put a little space between them.]

So I just touch you and think happy thoughts? That's not an experiment, that's a Peter Pan scene. You could just tell me whatever you think I was feeling last time we talked, and if you get it close enough I won't even know if you're telling me something you're actually feeling or just saying it. This isn't how an experiment works, Connor, didn't they program you with the scientific fucking process?

Lieutenant, please, it would be beneficial to both of us if we knew what the root cause was.

[(It would be beneficial to him. To know that a flood of emotion isn’t something that just happens to Connor, that his mind isn’t unwinding and compiling itself into oblivion out of the blue. That there was a reason behind it — there had to be. It was the only thing that made sense.)]

Test it on someone else, then, if you don’t trust me.

On who, Sumo?

[Hank throws a hand out behind him where Sumo's stopped, less worried about keeping up with either of them than he is about smelling whatever's on the bush right next to him. Hank, likewise, is not really thinking about slowing down for Sumo; he's almost at the temple, almost there, so close.]

Here's a fact you might not know about me: There's a lot of shit I just don't need to know. There's a lot of shit I don't want to know. Magic superpower bullshit ticks both of those boxes. It won't be beneficial to me to figure out the root cause of shit. Does being, uh, 'rude' to me, if that's what that even was, does it really bother you that much?

[Hank’s reluctance isn’t what he wished to deal with, but maybe Connor should realign his expectations accordingly. Maybe this is the way the Lieutenant tells him that his apology from before was not accepted, and as a result, he isn’t wiling to indulge him.

Something overcomes him, stopping his step. Sumo lingers behind and so will Connor, if Hank doesn’t bother to turn around or otherwise pause.]

I want to know. Will you not try at least once?

[It does bother him, but not only the idea of him being rude or unhelpful. But also the thought of Hank not being the reason for the invasion of emotion that wasn’t his. Couldn’t have been his. He doesn’t want that doubt lingering in him for longer than necessary — it needs to be expelled, uprooted like ivy snaking along the ones and zeroes marching through his mind.]

You want to know.

[Hank does stop, standing a few feet away from Connor, looking at him. For a couple seconds Hank just stands there like that. Then he turns and starts walking again.]

Well, give me a minute. I've gotta... gotta work myself up to it, okay? [And if he sounds a little unsteady there, well, yeah. It's freaky.] See, what was that with uh, telling me I wanted to know? I don't want shit out of this. Look, why don't you tell me what you felt, okay, that you're so worried about. That way when your little experiment doesn't work maybe you can try to figure out what's up with you anyway.

[Another lingering pause, before Connor continues walking, to follow Hank along his path the the temple.]

There’s nothing wrong with me.

[A few hurried steps and he’s right behind Hank again.]

Do you want to know now what I… felt?

[The last word is pushed out like it was a stone in his throat, but he allows it because of the unusual circumstances.]

Maybe we should wait to return to your room; you might prefer the privacy.

[Hank makes an amused noise. If Connor's trying to pull the same shit twice in five minutes, Hank is onto him.]

Yeah. I might. Maybe that's why I was already heading there. So since I'm gonna get all the privacy I could ever want why don't you go ahead and save time, start telling me now?

[Connor’s just trying to do him a favor. Consideration for what might be emotions he doesn’t want just spilling out into the hallway for anyone to hear, as they make a wobbly trek back to his room.]

If that’s what you want.

[A second or two of a pause, in case Hank changes his mind. Hearing nothing of the sort, Connor continues.]

When you touched me, and I felt my processing become overrun by almost immediately, I experienced a desire to connect. [Maybe that isn’t he right word. His LED blinks as he reconsiders, plucking from his vocabulary and judging which fits best.] To empathize, maybe. An… affection, but only as a result of some kind of expectation that I didn’t quite understand. Like there was a need to see something more human within an android’s core.

[Is that the right articulation? He can’t know. Another pause.]

Fear, too. I felt that. And self-deprecation.

[Hank's lips twist up as he listens, the expression not grimacing so much as covering something, holding something in. He walks a little faster into the temple, into the hallway, looking down to see his arms have crossed themselves over his chest, which of course he didn't notice.]

Did you think about how stupid that is before you went and decided it was me? Androids don't have human cores, that's the whole point. There's nothing in there. Still nothing telling me that stuff's not your fucking issue.

[There it is, so close, so far away. His door. He can't get to it soon enough.]

[Tension clenches around Connor from every angle upon hearing that rebuttal. He tries to keep pace.]

Are you saying that everything I just told you was incorrect?

[Inlaid with disbelief.]

[Yes. Say yes. All he has to say is yes.]

I'm saying what I'm saying. Are you saying everything you just told me doesn't sound like a ridiculous crock of bullshit to you? I mean, it freaked you out, sure, but that doesn't mean it's- That there's anything to it. You must think I'm a real dumbass, if that's what you think I'm thinking.

[Maybe Hank has forgotten that Connor is designed to read body language quite closely, each small change registering as a way to help him approach any given situation. Everything about Hank’s variation of tone, the growing tension in his body, the way he isn’t supplying a direct answer — it all points to a blatant lie. Connor doesn’t even need his scans to reach this conclusion, which is fine, because all they seem to be doing at the moment is flickering on and off at the most inconvenient times.]

...Are you lying because you’re embarrassed, Hank? This is why I suggested we wait until we returned to your room. I understand that it might not be easy to talk about for someone like yourself.

Fuck you.

[It's not a casual fuck you but it's not an angry one, either, not the kind of fuck you that would keep Hank from holding the door to his room open and waving Connor inside with a tight, sarcastic grin. It's not like Hank could stop this conversation happening anyway, even if he was that angry.]

And I understand that everything you told me was fucking stupid, so I guess we're even, or something.

After a second he'll leave the door open for Connor to deal with, to come in and close or not, and walk over to drop his ass down onto the mattress. It's a weird mattress, older than old fashioned, so it doesn't really give that satisfying bounce when you throw yourself onto it, but he tries anyway, looking around and grimacing and then reaching down into the couple inches between the bedframe and the wall. The way he's leaning makes his pants leg ride up far enough to show his ankle and the big, ugly marks all over it from the mermaid's loving attention earlier. His expression tightens, looking at it, because of course he hadn't known that should be hurting at all. He can't help but pick out the little details: Finger shaped bruises, like you'd expect. Sucker marks, which, well, sure. Also kind makes sense. Little dried blood trails where her claws probably were, yeah, that make sense too. Nothing surprising there, except in the way he hadn't known any of it was there at all, and he takes a sharp breath, looking away to see if the hand he's got digging behind the bed is hitting anything yet.]

Well, come on, do you want to get your little experiment over or what?

[He follows in, because of course he does. The strength behind that ‘fuck you’ is not nearly enough to stop Connor — very few are.

Considerate enough to close the door behind them, he doesn’t go for a seat. He only steps forward, and after Hank sinks into the mattress in a very unsatisfying way, he glances down at he exposed skin around his ankle. Views the bruising, the strangely-shaped marks, the lines of dried blood and swollen skin indicative of a fresh, minor injury. Connor frowns. Might have to find a way to tend to it later, to stave off infection; who knows what a mermaid might carry?

But for now, his eyes sweep back up to Hank’s face. Sees the discomfort there as clear as day, no matter how much the other tries to shield it with sarcasm and indignity.]

Yes.

[Close enough to reach out his hand, Connor does so. What a strange gesture, almost registering as what two androids would do; the readiness of contact for the sake of interfacing, except Hank is definitely not an android, just a man who doesn’t believe what might happen is going to happen at all.]

[Hank reaches up, straightening up, abandoning his search behind the bed to wrap his hand around Connor's arm. He's not grabbing tight enough, so behind his hand there's nothing. Connor's not even there; Hank might not be, either. Hank has the lingering sense that something was, once, and while his head knows that's just the memories of the hallucinations, when he at least thought he could feel what wasn't there, he hasn't been able to shake the feeling that with every second he's moving further away from something.

That's the backdrop of Hank's brain, being in the middle of some vague, cloudy void, some solid anchor, something good, moving further and further away. In the midground of Hank's brain is a feeling like feeling your nails scrape down a chalkboard, all the stupid little details like - like kids with magic powers, like the stupid weird animals that flutter around this place, like having to use the word dimension on a daily fucking basis, like being expected to be a big damn hero in this impossible, impossible- there's the feeling of nails on on a chalkboard and of the noise rising loud, unbearable, building to some kind of crescendo, one that'll never fucking come, it'll just go on and on and on.

And in the foreground there's a faint sense of disappointment, of an anchor in his hand that he can't feel, numbness eating away at his skin and moving outward, dissolving everything else away with it. And once the world he sees, the false, senseless, stupid one dissolves away, the one that can't exist, there's another one behind it. There's a sense of that vast, echoing emptiness he'd felt in that lake, lost in empty nothing, and the dream he'd thought of there, the sense that behind this world he can't believe or feel there's just another dream, the one where he's hanging in the air and whatever was holding him up is crushed and bleeding, screaming with a pain he's almost deaf to but won't be, soon, isn't, as the ground closes in and he crumbles against it, all the pieces of him coming apart and rotting into blood and bone smeared against the pavement.

And of course, alongside all that, there's a low, bass note of need, some little shelter he can hunker under, if he reaches for it.

So he does. He leans away from Connor's arm, knowing his limp, numb fingers will just slide away the moment he stops looking at them, and leans over to peer behind the bed, instead.]

Ha. There you are, you little fucker.

[Carefully, with both hands, he pulls out a bottle, a cork stuck in it, a fork with twisted tines stuck in the cork. He doesn't look at Connor, just sets the bottle on the mattress between his knees and starts twisting the fork around, waiting for the cork to pop out.]

[He’s ready for it this time, he thinks. Steels his focus against whatever might come up to meet it, knowing what he felt once before, expecting it again. It’ll be easier to endure the buffeting of human emotion when he faces it head on. It can crash into him but he won’t stumble, won’t crumple into himself this time. He’s sure of it.

Hank touches his arm, and at first there’s nothing, just a white noise in the background that feels like a dearth, a void, a strange hole where there used to be something but now there isn’t. It isn’t so jarring for an android, who doesn’t feel the way a human does, pleasure and pain not registering in the same manner, only the acknowledgment of pressure and potential injury and empirical data gleaned from the surface of touch. But it is that lack that is disturbing; knowing that something should be there, and Connor doesn’t know what to do with it. Drifting away from an anchor. Afloat in a sea without any destination.

And then, like weeds shooting up all around him, thick and difficult to navigate, are the throes of disbelief. Of a reality shaken by worlds and abilities and expectation to do good when you can barely hold onto yourself, all of it creating noise that can’t be filtered through. A blast of static, of too many radio channels fighting for dominance, coupled with the inability to compartmentalize and partition it all away into a nice, faraway part of the mind. Always there. Always present, always turbulent, always like a little creature walking in circles in the same spot, over and over and over—

Until a veil is pierced by something that feels like pain and movement that churns in slow motion, a crushing feeling of being shattered at all sides, taken apart, bleeding, broken, screams of pain, something prying into your insides and hollowing you out until you were nothing but an empty house about to collapse, lacking support, lacking foundation, just rotted wood and everything around you is just singing for release, to whittle yourself down into oblivion because there’s comfort in it, there’s a mode of escape from… from…

From what?

Connor doesn’t know what that is, but it feels like his Thirium pump being crushed by an invisible hand, rattling around in a cage of bones that he doesn’t have. Jarring him back into reality, too much to handle, he can’t process that, it makes something prick at the corner of his eyes, and he has to disengage or else he feels like he might fall apart.

He jerks his hand away, as if bitten by fire. Eyes wide, LED a vicious red. Looks at Hank as he tries to force a cork off of a bottle that he didn’t even see him unearth, registering only the movement of it and nothing more, reeling, absolutely reeling. Processes try to format themselves back into place, but the shapes are too different again to even resemble what they once were.

He says nothing. Can say nothing.]

[The cork does pop out and he looks up to Connor, mouth open to say something dry and derisive about that hypothesis Connor's so sure of. Then he sees Connor. He sees Connor's LED. Then he closes his mouth.]

Hey, uh. It wasn't that bad, was it? I mean I- I guess I must of done something if you're looking like this, but-

[He leans forward, turning his head to try and catch Connor's gaze.]

Are you okay?

Edited 2018-09-24 21:43 (UTC)

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