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.

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.]

[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.

[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.

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?]

You think you are a danger to everyone else?

[He wrings out one of the gloves, running the fabric between his fingers while he thinks about it.]

Are you? Or do you just perceive yourself to be?

[Carlisle falls silent, staring at his skeletal hands. Many images and incidents from Anchor alone come to mind as he considers the answer: is he a danger, or does he just perceive himself to be?

He thinks of meeting Poison in the baths, of rot spreading all around him as he lost his temper; she backed away from him that day, and wisely so. She knew him before, but neither of them knew who he was then.

As a twice-cursed, Carlisle lived the majority of his life under the perception he was a danger to everyone around him. They were said to be the harbingers of misfortune, a plague on those who would tolerate their existence; their curse would taint the very world around them, as well as those who lived there. People have told him otherwise, but it was always hard to believe anything but the old superstitions when he lost so much. His father died only months after he was cursed, and his uncles vanished years after, leaving him alone. He spent his days in service of his goddess, hoping it would mitigate what he was.

He thinks of the undead swarming Qubit, of how he'd spurred them into action without ever knowing. He recalls the skeletons rising all around them, of how his ignorance of what he was capable of could have ended badly for the technomancer, a man he considers more than a casual acquaintance -- a man who has done nothing but try to help him.

In the end, everything he'd done to preserve his family's legacy and his beloved home hadn't mattered at all. Bear Den was worse because he'd been tolerated, allowed to be despite his affliction. There is nothing left of his town save for the knowledge that he brought it to ruin. The Blight Heir is now as synonymous with Bear Den as the Longinmouths had been, and there's no amount of diligence and duty that can change that.

He thinks of Kieran and Ben being attacked by a monstrous aberration of his own making, the trees around them withering and dying as he draws energy from them; he thinks of Pratt, his friend, the flesh of his hand necrolysing before them both.

It had been mostly perception before, when he was alive. There is no doubt he is a danger now. He loops a finger over the top of his mask, pulling it free of his face and revealing the creature beneath.]

I have proven to be little else in my time here. I have created monsters and set them upon people who did nothing more than rile my temper. I have injured a man who was my friend, decaying his very flesh with the necrotic energy that festers within me. I am a blight upon this place, and I wonder now if I have been my entire life. Did I lie to myself this entire time, thinking I would do good if given the chance? That I would- that I would make my family proud despite everything? Is this all I survived for? All I am now?

[Turning the water off, Genji turns to regard Carlisle, his eyes flicking over the missing skin and bones visible in his face. After seeing his hands, he had expected something like that - but still, being confronted with it is slightly different and his eyes widen just a bit. ]

Even the best intentions can go awry - we can never be sure of the outcome of anything even if we may wish it so.

[Created monsters. Necrotic energy. It definitely sounds like what is afflicting this man is similar to what turned Reyes into Reaper. But he seems to be unable to control his energies and is suffering for it, because of what he had done to others, not what had been done to himself. Genji knows a thing or two about suffering and being consumed with despair and constant reminders of past mistakes.]

You survived for a reason, what you do with that is up to you, but if you wish to do good I am sure there is a still a way for you to accomplish that. Your energies feed on your emotions? Then you learn to control them, to focus only on that which you wish them to do.

[He reaches up to his helmet, fully pulling the visor free, eyes focused on that, now in his hand instead of Carlisle. Behind the mask he's horribly scarred, several deep gouges across his cheeks and nose that were inflicted long enough ago that the discoloration has faded, but not the damage. Metal plating continues down from his temples to form his jaw, a thin ridge through it where the visor would slide into place. When he speaks the scars on his cheeks crinkle at the edges, a constant reminder he can feel even while wearing the mask.]

You did not come so far to give up now and be defeated by despair. I believe you will find a way to make it right.

[Those words are so familiar: you survived for a reason. Carlisle used to tell himself that all the time, always feeling the need to justify his continued existence despite his affliction. He would find that reason eventually, he told himself back then, and through his service to his goddess, all would be made clear. Pouring himself into his work, he hoped to find his place among his bloodline while appealing to the Clarity's mercy. He'd been so uncharacteristically optimistic about his healing, so proud of it; he was a failure in so many regards, but with his one talent, he would make everything right. Everything would be fine in the end, wouldn't it?

No, no it wasn't. It absolutely wasn't fine.

He can't say he ever did find his place, truly, nor can he say if his goddess had any pity upon him. He doesn't know if it's even possible now that he's worlds away from his home and his deity, existing as a monster parading in a human skin, afraid of dying again and being reborn as something even worse. Surely his goddess would be disgusted with him, with what he's become, with what he did. His father would be. What kind of a Longinmouth is he now? Was he ever fit to be one? Was there ever any hope, or did he suffer and cause suffering for no reason?

That spiral of embittered self-defeat is so easy to fall into, especially when it's ingrained in a Revenant's very being. He once felt that seclusion was the only choice for the good of the people of Bear Den, living alone in his estate rather than among them, but his isolation did him no favors when it came to battling his demons. It did even worse when it came to his actual death.

If nothing else, it is nice to hear someone has faith in him, even if he assumes Genji may be woefully overestimating his capacity for good. Given he disfigured one of the few people who would stand for him, Carlisle can't find it in him right now to believe in himself. He barely could when he was alive, using his abilities for prosperity and health of Bear Den; he certainly can't now that he's an affront to his former humanity.

Glancing Genji's way, he's honestly surprised by what's revealed when the mask is removed -- it seems they are both hiding something beneath their outer layers, scars and malformations that now define who they are. Genji has spoken before about overcoming his turmoil, about moving past it with the help of his master. Perhaps that's why he's so reassuring: he, too, has seen a bitter end, and has managed to move forward from it.

Carlisle isn't sure if he has such strength. Fortitude is more characteristic of other members of his bloodline: his brawny Uncle Boris, his stoic father, even his charismatic Uncle Benistad with his multitude of magics. Carlisle has always been a coward, content to live in their shadows, undeserving because of his affliction. He only stepped into the position as head of the estate because he was forced to by being the only Longinmouth left, and even then, it was with reluctance.

In short, he struggles with his self-worth. He has always struggled with his self-worth, and nothing that has happened since his awakening as an undead has changed that. He's afraid of what he is; he's equally afraid of what he could be if he doesn't get himself and all that entails under control.

His eyes are still on Genji when he finds his voice.]

What reason did you have? For surviving?

Revenge. Mostly.

[But he had waited a long time to exact it. He spent years in Blackwatch and then Overwatch before he returned to Hanamura and slew what used to be his clan. His family.

And it took him over a decade to confront Hanzo, his brother, who had been the one to murder him in the first place.

He'd told himself that he couldn't go after them until he had fully trained with his new cybernetics, he didn't want to have any complications. Kill every single member of the crime family he'd been born into, and then leave no trace. Because he was a ninja, he felt nothing.

It was actually Hanzo that had complicated things, returning every year on the same day to honor Genji, kneeling in front of the sword he'd used to end Genji's life. Or so Hanzo firmly believed, having no idea that Genji was still alive.

He claimed to have forgiven Hanzo, but he hadn't. He couldn't. Yet even the thought of killing Hanzo, of actually returning and dismembering him the way he had to his own brother, made Genji physically ill. He would never be able to strike him down.

The truth was that he was so reserved and quiet not because he felt nothing. But because he felt everything.]

And I have had it. But once acquired I am still alive, and time continues to flow forward. There is no stopping it. And death is easy, anyone can become dead. Living is the true challenge.

[Time continues to flow forward, much like a river -- whether Carlisle learns to navigate the waters himself and move forward, or be drowned beneath their currents as he stagnates, mired in his misery and guilt, is up to him. Given he nearly threw himself into the Cottonmouth on more than one occasion, he can't say he's ever been much of one for trying to move forward. He has survived thus far, telling himself he had to keep moving, but had he actually done so? Had he changed? Was he not still embroiled in the same embittered despair he faced in life, made all the worse by his death?

The uncertainty of his future and his potential to make things worse has always kept him grounded. Genji's advice is good -- better than anything he would give, perhaps -- but Carlisle isn't sure he fully accepts it yet.]

I see.

[He'll have to work on it, as the alternatives -- being so burdened by his remorse that he crumples beneath his self-loathing, either bringing an end to his existence, giving way to a far worse creature like the Blight Heir, or both simultaneously -- are unbearable. As he said to Genji when they last spoke, it isn't easy being angry at oneself; these days, where Carlisle feels he has little value to offer, there is little but anger.

He offers Genji his mask, still reluctant to part with it.]

Is that what your master taught you?

That I learned from my brother.

[There's a wry smile on his face as he takes the mask and turns back to the sink.]

My master taught me the importance of tranquility. I spent so much time fighting, hating, being consumed with bitterness that I had forgotten who I was. And it was difficult to remember when I had this constant reminder that I was not the same person I used to be.

[He looks at his arm, retracting the panel over his shurikens for a moment and then sliding it back with a shnk sound.]

But I was not a good person to begin with. I don't want to be him again. It's better now. Even with all this, even with so many regrets and the burden of what could have been - I will make this better.

[He sounds determined, because he's definitely not there yet. There are days, even here, where he's so consumed with self loathing that he doesn't even leave his room. Not that it would matter because he's talked to so few people they wouldn't notice if he was alive or dead much less if he stayed hidden.

Both a curse and a perk of being a ninja.]

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

And I did not even notice. D:

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Just RIP MY HEART INTO PIECES WHY DON'T YOU

I aim to please

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