abheirrant | ❧ i n b o x

[Carlisle seems to be one of those people who likes to explain what he's doing which right now is a blessing because Genji was definitely not expecting a washer to look like this. What is the spike in the middle for? With the kind of fanblades coming out of it? There's buttons that say things like: normal, spin, quick, timed, perm press. What on earth is perm press? Is there a difference between quick and timed?

He sets his bundle on the top of one of the washers, unfolding it and revealing his clothes inside. They're all black minus the orange sweatshirt that the robots had put him in when he'd first arrived. Should that be separate then?

Laundry worries aside, he turns sharply when he hears Carlisle's hiss of pain. If he'd been closer he probably could have caught the detergent before it hit the ground, but fortunately it falls to the ground uneventfully, the other mans arm seemingly to have lost strength.]

You are injured.

[Ignoring the box he approaches Carlisle's side, eyeing his arm.]

Is it your arm? Or shoulder?

[So much for ignoring that question about injury the first time around; the fingers of his left hand tighten around his right arm as it trembles violently, his fingers refusing to respond. He tries to concentrate on the flow of energy within his body, his eyes darting to Genji with a look of apprehension, and back again as he finally manages to flex his wrist. His energy is, after all, all that's keeping him animated, and the fact it's been unsteady at best since the incident with Kieran has him more than a little worried.

That concern pushes an answer out of Carlisle in spite of his paranoia of what he is, of being discovered as an abomination; the thought of losing himself is a far heavier burden. Besides that... he will likely have to explain himself if he wants Genji to wash his gloves and mask. He can't just hide in the common room, can he?]

My arm. It's- it's all of me. I'm not— [He hesitates, suddenly fearful. Genji hasn't seemed terribly judgmental, but he doesn't know him very well, does he? He shouldn't do this, Carlisle tries to convince himself -- he shouldn't do this now. He needs to be cautious, he needs to—

He needs to ask for help, and accept it when it is given. It's the advice he'd give were he not the one in need of it. He steels himself with a breath.]

I am... struggling to control my energies. My limbs are a part of that, and they're- they're stiff. Unresponsive at times.

Edited 2019-11-16 00:27 (UTC)

[He doesn't fully understand, but it seems that the powers the man used to summon balls of light ran through his veins and were .. malfunctioning? It's a strange concept to him but clearly it's painful and Carlisle seems injured because of it.]

Is there anything I can do to assist? Have you been to the Medbay?

[Scooping up the box of detergent he sets it on the shelf, there's more important things than laundry right now.]

[Carlisle shakes his head.]

I need these stains out of my mask and gloves, and cannot currently scrub them hard enough on my own. If you would do that for me, I would be beyond grateful.

[And that's where he pauses again, conflicted, delaying the inevitable.]

Just- just put your things in the machine, and I'll... I'll show you. I suppose.

[She falls silent, thoughtful, at that question.]

... When I was growing up, I was... different to everyone else. I never knew why, but people would talk about me when they thought I couldn't hear, or avoid crossing paths with me. [Poison doesn't sound bitter, but maybe a little saddened by the recollection.]

My father did his best after mother died, but I suppose it tells you enough that no one was surprised when I chose my name.

[There's a pause, a soft laugh.]

And when I found out that I was the Hierophant? I was sure it had to be some kind of a mistake. But as soon as I picked up the pen I knew it was where I was meant to be.

Ah.

[She was ostracized growing up, as he was. Then she found her place, as he did. Does she consider herself to have lost it, now that she's here? Are their situations as comparable as he thought?

He sighs, silent for another moment.]

I hope that feeling stays with you -- that something is meant to be. It's a good feeling.

It's been a while since I felt that way.

[She sighs quietly, and the silence that follows is heavy.]

I'm not sure how long I've been gone. Three years, maybe four. And I don't know if the idea of going back to the time you left counts when you keep going anywhere but home. [Her voice sticks for a moment.]

And what happens to a world when the person who is meant to be writing it isn't there?

I can certainly do that, but you seem to need more assistance than laundry. What happened to stain them?

If you're comfortable talking about it. You do not need to tell me.

[Because if anyone understood not wanting to talk about things, it's Genji. He does as instructed, putting his items in the washer one by one. He's not sure how they're supposed to go, does he put one on each side? He's trying.]

[Carlisle is obviously not super interested in explaining, but he's pretty desperate to get his mask and gloves washed. The stains aren't a hindrance on him, but they are an annoyance. No, more than that, as they are a constant reminder of what he is under all those layers. He hates it. He hates them.

He reaches into the washer, helping divide up the clothes evenly to show Genji how it should look; his hands shake the whole time.]

I have an affliction. I am not hurt, just — no no, evenly, like this — it will be easier explained once we get this started — turn this dial here, and press that button twice — and I truly appreciate your offer to help — the powder goes in this little drawer — but it is an uncomfortable topic for me, admittedly.

[Genji lets it go, paying attention to the instructions for the laundry. He'll have to do this again without Carlisle's help in the future, and he doesn't want to have to ask for a repeat simply because he wasn't listening well enough. Fortunately he's a good student, and does as he's told, getting the powder down and measuring it into the little plastic cup before putting it in the indicated place.]

That is fine, you do not need to tell me.

[He presses the button and is rewarded with the machine giving a little wiggle and then starting to fill with water. Huh. That was easier than he expected.

At least handwashing he's very familiar with. He heads to the small sink and turns the water on before giving a brief glance back at Carlisle. Getting water in his armor is one of his least favorite things, it's not waterproof and it just puddles uncomfortably and takes forever to dry and he swears somehow rain can find every single seam and pour directly against his skin. There's a soft hiss as he pushes on one of the plates in his left arm and it seems to disengage from the rest of it. The metal pieces slide into each other, pulling away from his flesh hand and arm below.

Along with the few deep scars criss-crossing his forearm there's some odd circular ones where tubing had once gone. But it is the first indication he's the human he claims to be under that armor.]

[Carlisle watches Genji as he approaches the sink, still trying to talk himself out of this. No one else has to know, he tells himself, certainly not someone who is a relative stranger. What if he abhors undeads as well? What if he immediately assumes he's some kind of abomination -- which he is -- and slays him right then and there? Carlisle shifts nervously, knowing he couldn't really blame Genji if he did. He'd be inclined to do the same, were circumstances not what they are.

But they indeed are, and so he picks at the sleeve of his gambeson, procrastinating as he takes note of what Genji is doing. Carlisle is curious as to how he gets that armor off, as it's unlike anything he's seen before, machine-like in its construction rather than held together with latches and buckles. But, as he insisted, Genji is human under there. There's comfort in that. He's just a man who appears to be a machine, but is human beneath.

Carlisle, unfortunately, is the opposite. He looks like a human, but is less than one now, considering himself a detestable creature rather than a person. He stifles his self-loathing, but continues to lack his voice as he comes closer, taking a seat on a bench near the sinks, finally forcing himself to remove one of his gloves—

And beneath it is a hand that is little more than bones and a few tendons, his actual frame held together by magic rather than muscle these days. The skin wore away long ago, what volume his fingers had the result of some padding in the fabric of his gloves.]

Hm.

[Well, so much for that modicum of hope he was trying to muster up on Poison's behalf. She does bring up an interesting point, though: if and when they go home, has time passed there? Or are they returned to the exact moment they left? And even if they are, what happens when someone who is responsible for the existence of said world is gone? If they grew sick when she wanted nothing to do with it, what became of them when she outright vanished?

It wouldn't matter for him whether or not time passed. Maybe it would be easier to return to a world far divorced from who he was and what he did, but he would remain a monster all the same. He knows what he did, and he is the one who must live with that guilt.]

What outcome are you hoping for?

[He admittedly isn't expecting that. His first irrelevant thought is that he wondered if that's what Reyes looked like now, rotting away under his clothing while whatever nanites Moira has created kept him alive and stitched together. His second thought..]

That looks quite painful.

[No wonder the man seemed to be in agony and his limbs not working. He had said it was an 'affliction', Reaper had called it a curse. It seemed very, very similar. Though Carlisle didn't seem likely to suddenly manifest a gun and shoot him in the face.]

[Carlisle shakes his head.]

It isn't. It is always like this. I am always like this.

[He tries to flex his fingers; they barely move, and apparently that's what's painful. His hand trembles as he winces, stifling a groan.]

I extended the energies that keep me animated too far, and now I must wait for them to realign themselves. I am lucky it did not end me.

[Though perhaps it should have.]

Edited 2019-11-21 21:42 (UTC)

You will not fall apart will you?

[The way he's so hesitant to take his gloves off makes Genji think that maybe that's what's holding him together. ]

I haven't yet, fortunately.

[He hands Genji the glove, pulling off his other one -- the hand beneath it is nearly the same, just as skinless and just as stiff.]

You seem unafraid.

You do not know what I have seen.

[Seeing people literally rotting while still appearing to be living is not one of them, but he's seen enough horror and trauma and death to be mostly unaffected by it. He reaches up to his mask, hands folding around the back of his helmet to a hidden release lever, pulling his visor down just enough to expose his eyes.

He doesn't feel like taking it all the way off, but it's a start. Where Carlisle is hiding how inhuman he is under his clothing, Genji is very much he doesn't feel like it. Though even from that small strip of exposed skin several deep scars can be seen across his nose and one of his eyes.

That final fight had not gone in his favor.]

Is there something that can be done to help? To regrow what you have lost? This seems like a highly scientific facility, it could be possible.

[He takes the glove, running it under the water and silently wondering what Carlisle had been doing to get it full of what he can only assume is ink.]

[Though he can't see all of Genji's face, the message is clear from what little can be seen. It's similar to his own situation, what few scars are visible just around his eyes telling of what may lie beneath. Carlisle's own ink stains are nowhere near as gruesome as the scars Genji has; however they came to be must have been traumatic.

He shakes his head, working up the nerve to remove his mask. He fiddles with the clasp around his neck.]

I fear any attempt from the machines here would make things worse.

[Or that they'd sense what he is and eradicate him entirely. He's surprised the decontamination process when going in and out of Anchor hasn't done so already.]

I cannot risk it.

They could make it worse I suppose, but it may be worth finding out. Not having skin can be incredibly uncomfortable.

[He doesn't elaborate but the way he says it indicates that he knows from experience. There's a lot of ink coming out of Carlisle's gloves as he scrubs at them, holding them in his metal hand and using his human one to work them up into a sudsy lather. The fine motor control of his cybernetic hand is excellent, but even after ten years and multiple different parts there's still a part of him that thinks he'll tear or crush anything he touches with it, or that it might not do exactly what he wants.

His cybernetics feel like a part of him finally, but he's still fully aware of where the human ends and the robot begins.]

It is up to you of course, but there may be something to be done.

That... no one missed me. That no one even realised I was gone. That everything is the same.

[But he's started her thinking about things she's mostly kept buried since her time in the Box, since the first time she died there and started to wonder how people were brought back from the dead.

She falls silent for a few moments.]

I want to be able to go home and just... get on with my life.

[Carlisle watches Genji wash, not thinking too hard on how much construct he may be, for a change. He's too busy trying to swallow down the volatile concoction of guilt, anxiety, and self-loathing he's been stewing in.]

I should not linger near others for long. I- I should not have even agreed to meet you, and would not have if not for selfish desperation.

[She wants everything to be the same, but unless she is stripped of her memories of this place -- and of Hadriel, and of anywhere else she's been -- she cannot possibly be. Her own memories and experiences aside, there are those of others, ties of camaraderie and friendship that would be lost, potentially missed. He is reluctant to include himself in those categories, but he can think of at least one fellow who would be sorely disappointed if she vanished one day to get on with her life elsewhere.]

What about Peter?

[Unsurprisingly, she's thought about that. She's thought about it a lot, actually, ever since...]

When we were released from Hadriel, he was supposed to come back with me. We both ended up here instead.

[And she hasn't begrudged the extra time they've had with each other, though she would have preferred it to be somewhere that they didn't have to worry about staying alive, or who might be trying to record them while they slept.]

If I could, I'd want to still be able to do that.

No? Why not?

[Carlisle has already said that he overextended his energies. He's the one that's injured, not Genji. He's not sure why Carlisle wouldn't want to be around others, unless he's truly trying to hide any injury. That would make sense.]

I will not tell anyone of your weakened condition. You have my word.

It's not that.

[His answer escapes him in a rush; his hands are back to trembling as he reaches beneath his veil, unfastening his mask from the body of his gambeson. He forces himself to keep talking, to explain. A part of him is still afraid Genji will immediately see him as the threat to the people of Anchor that he is. Why wouldn't he?]

It- it isn't safe.

[Why hasn't he already?]

It isn't safe for others.

[Why hasn't anyone? And if they have, why haven't they done something?]

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I sure did manage to lose a whole sentence mid-paragraph up there....

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And I did not even notice. D:

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