rockymountaindie | ic inbox (balance)

[ Two are named. Easy enough. But he cracks before answering the third. And Alex can watch the exact moment it becomes an answer. Shit.

There's no attempt to give out trite comments of 'are you okay' or 'hey glad you're alive'. Just sheer honesty. ] I am so sorry, Alex.

[ He winces at that. ]

Don't... I mean- it wasn't...in Wonderland. I got... It was here.

[

0x8001C227 Failed: simulation error: unable to locate protocol.
Revert to last known configuration. ]

What.

[ He's this far. No turning back. Alex doesn't look at Will, steadfast does not- ]

I was- it was out on the quad, Shinjiro and Minato, they found me and- no one saw who did it, but I-

[ Running a hand over his head. Over his head. One spot particular. Not even meaning to. ]

I shoulda been more careful. I was just- I was so angry and that guy was just fine and- and I fucked up. I didn't think he'd- I just didn't think.

[ It's half an explanation, half several explanations, but he can't string them all together in proper order. ]

[ The broken explanations don't matter. 'No one saw who did it, but I'. Any words before these two are useless. The rest after are stutters; broken half-words revolving around one core subject. Someone, here, harmed one under his dominion, and Alex knows who it is. Or at the very least has an idea.

No errors activate. How to tread this part was carried across. The voice eases back. All concern with no visible knives. ]

What did you do?

[ He remembers promising he'd be careful, and again he failed at that, didn't he? There's a fear in him, but- ]

I punched him. Twice. 'nd... I yelled at him. I can't be...completely sure, but- ...how many people 'round here have a gun?

[ The mistake here is Alex asked a question that someone who murders murderers would keep track of. ]

One shotgun, four rifles, two pistols, one sub-machine gun. Not counting newcomers I'm unaware of or anything from Branwen's ridiculous weapons course. [ Seriously. Who puts a shotgun on a scythe. What a moron. ] Of those I know of, only two would shoot someone your age. And you're not using 'she'.

[ Let it be known that, due to the rules of Balance, Natsuhi Fuckin' Ushiromiya is still wondering around base with a Winchester. ]

[ For a stark moment, Alex just stares at him. ]

It was a rhetorical fuckin’ question, Will, I’m pretty sure the only messed up fuck I’ve gotten on the bad side of is that guy Ogata.

[ well he was GOING to say it GENTLER, but here we are ]

[ Alex, you of all people cannot dunk him for having a perfect memory for stupid shit. But it's also valid because it's the same answer so many others here have thrown in his face for the same thing. But the answer gets that same Non-Will expression Alex has seen once. Ogata was told not to harm those close to him, and he killed Alex? He should have known better-

And the expression cracks. One hand is still strapped into place, by a wise Dr Tank a few days prior, but the metal one covers his mouth in the universal sign of someone trying not to lose their shit. He remembers the conversation, it was Literally Yesterday, Ogata wouldn't have known. ]

God damn everythi- I didn't- You died, right? As- actually lost something of yourself?

[ He's trying to read those expressions, read them good. (That's how you live, after all, you get good at reading things- oh jeez, his paranoid brain's starting up again.)

But the instant he asks, the very moment, Alex feels ice in his veins. His voice...it gets very soft. ]

Yeah. Yeah, I- 'm pretty sure I did.

[ He's not so heartless to ask what he lost. It's just taken as a truth without question. But that's even worse. It's his fault it even happened. Ogata's still a shitheel, but it wouldn't have been fatal had he known. Also because that type of self-destructive thought process makes infinitely more sense than just Ogata Is A Shitheel.

There's no obvious outward sign of this stupidity aside from how monotone the voice is. ]

I didn't give him the names of those off limits.

Off limits? What...? [ There's a fundamental disconnect in Alex's brain. For one, it sounds like the issue is more...who it was, than that it happened. That doesn't make sense, for Alex. The guy killing anyone is bad. That's how Alex views it. However, something overrides that, as he starts to put the pieces together. ] Does this have anything to do with the...arrangement he mentioned? I- when I...saw 'im, I- ...I was mad about your, you know...your leg, and- and a few other things, and he said something about that, but-

[ Slow down, Alex. Get your thoughts in order. That inner voice that sounds so much like Clear centers him. ]

What...happened, Will?

[ "An arrangement." Wonderful, excellent choice of words, perfect to let people who have no context run away with their own minds. It wasn't supposed to be like this. But all it took was one second of bad timing and everything else piles up one after the other. He didn't want to give out the details, but now... ]

...Arrangement makes it sound like m'getting blackmailed. More like... a game. I... Explaining the reasons wouldn't matter. [ It'd just send Alex into anxiety city, with the chance of him running his mouth to the wrong person and then everyone will get on his case. Not worth it. ] The core rule is we take turns. Non-fatal damage only. If I wasn't glass, the only thing that'd happen is I'd fall on my face and look like an idiot. But I had an additional condition in-

[ Uh.

Here, of all times, there's a glimpse of red on pale skin and he turns away to check the time. Obviously. ]

In exchange for my participation, those under my dominion are not to be harmed.

[ It's funny that Will's reasons for not explaining the reasons are concern for Alex's anxiety. Not understanding starts to send him to a point of nervous confusion, a game? A game, that involved getting shot? It's clear the more Will explains, the less Alex comprehends. It's written all over his face...until. ]

You- your...dominion...? What are you- [ Oh. Oh, well.

Alex too finds himself looking away. He's more amused, despite the horrific circumstances. ]

...You could just say your friends, Will.

[ There's a blank moment here where the equivalents are carried across. He just thinks it's friendship? But if that means he has to start making existing friends as part of his own aspect - the first face that pops into his mind is that one fucking smile Dlanor has when she was about to go off on a justice bender.

The laugh immediately devolves into a short coughing fit. At least it gets rid of the embarrassment of the subject. ] Lord, no. That- hell, I'd have to Michael as part of me by your standards.

[ Translation: It's A Dumb Angel Thing. But putting it like that is even dumber. So. ]

Look. I'm not a Guardian. Never had to hand out Oaths before. But... When I say you and souls like yours are the reason I exist? I mean that literally. To explain more is dangerous. Yo-for me, I mean. But you're the ones that resonate most with my Concept. It's... [ Ugh. Going into names and Concepts is risky. How do you word it without an explanation?

Both eyes close, a few moments of consideration, and the answer comes out with a Weight that can't be explained. ] If it is within my power, I will never let anything harm you. And should something succeed, an equivalent price shall be taken. It is not servitude. But as long as it is you who asks, I will answer any request.

[ He mouths it, part of me, turning that over in his mind. What? Alex realizes, he's stumbled into something that really is more than he could conceptualize, before. Suddenly, the air of the room is heavier. The hairs on Alex's arms stand on end, and he's struck by the moment, realizing-- Will really does remind him of Clear in some stark, surprising ways.

This isn't a human thing. The energy Will has about him, it's something Alex has never encountered. But it's not scary, like It was, and perhaps more importantly to him-- should there be a closest comparable person inhabiting it, the nearest experience he's had, it's Clear, solemnly and sincerely telling him she feels him, that despite never having a connection beforehand, she knew without a doubt she felt what he had, on the plane where they both almost died.

It's big. It's important. And Alex finds himself nodding before he realizes it. ] I- uh. Okay.

[ A stupid response, at first. But that-- souls like that, though Alex probably couldn't explain it to another person, just what's transpiring, there's a moment of understanding in his eyes. ]

I mean- if you're already...considering me part of that, I... Okay.

[ It's a shame Aziraphale wasn't around to put it into words. It's not like how humans use the term, but it's definitely Love. But if Aziraphale's the type of dog that runs up to the nearest person and loves them unconditionally, Will's the kind that picks two people and attempts to attack anyone outside of that. The human race is certainly capable of Good, sure, but after spending so long seeing the Bad they can do, he's incapable of feeling the type of Love that proper angels do.

But with those specific three idiots, he can remember it. Alex probably doesn't get the whole thing. It'd be hard to put into better words. But it slots into place Enough when he answers "Okay". It gets past the stinging in his hands, a small chunk of some ever-present anxiety lifts, and that's good enough to work with for now. He's in the middle of some word that only gets through a single syllable before scratching to a stop.

Wait.

Hands.

Okay, no, rewind. Something infinitely wrong just happened there. There's a short moment spent doing the most basic hand exercise; make a fist, release, curl each finger in and out like a wave. It's the same there-yet-distant feeling of a program running with no errors. It is his hand, but yet.

No amount of time disorientation will erase That Day. Bernkastel ripped his arm off a year ago. He hasn't had feeling since.

Which means it's not His. Alex is forgotten in favor of mentally running over a DOS readout. One Contract, no ceremonies. Maya is physically fine. Lion is physically fine. Alex has damage i-

And it clicks. ] Dammit all, again?!

[ All at once, something floods Alex's veins, like a chill- but it's also warm, too warm but all at once relaxing. It definitely helps with how his leg is on fire- not literally, he's felt that recently- like a thousand little knife stabs over and over and over- but distantly. His, and yet not, from the wave of calm. Like how his shoulders ache slightly, right down the blades. It's his. But it's not.

Alex lets out a breath, acutely aware of the way it feels against his lips. Just as he's starting to wonder what's going on, Will exclaims, and he jumps. ]

Wh- what?! What again...?!

[ It's not that strong, now that he's aware of it, but Alex's spike is strong enough to feed back through the connection. Hard. It's only three beats, but that's three warning beeps the heart monitor gives of the rate jumping above baseline. ]

Relax! How-- [ How do you even function with that short a fuse, holy shit- It's fine. Just. Unexpected. The new connection is moved to a proper position, like dragging a file across the desktop, then rebalance countless others. Reorient his own self back into a place where it is only His. Compared to Lion, he feels things so much. It's supposed to take longer than that for emotions to get through. It's surprising.

Actually. No. No it's not. At all. Either way, it's just a quick sure to make sure he is Himself again. Yes? Yes. Good. Time to be a shitposter. ] Accidentally made us official. Please take care of me, Mister Browning.

[

motherfucker-

Alex sputters and shoots back, slamming his head into the wall in the process, try feeling that in your connection you asshole. ]

Wh- f- I said not to make it weird, what the fuck, Will--! Shi-- explain with words, or I'm calling Lion!

[ Thankfully he moved the notif a second ago, because that slamming only comes across as a distant mental alert, ghosting across the relevant nerves to get across the severity. That's probably gonna give the poor kid one hell of a headache. Alas, it does nothing to stop him from laughing himself sick at the sudden reaction. This isn't a metaphor. A few seconds in it devolves into a coughing fit that doesn't look bad, but Alex can feel his own back shred itself, down into his lungs and ricocheting outwards again.

It's fine. Or the painkillers make it fine. Whatever. Same thing. Wait the few more breaths after so there's no stuttering. In good news, it means Alex isn't mocked relentlessly for the additional response. On this day alone, he gets away with minimal shitposting. ] Didn't know you could have multiple. That counted for that one Paladin skill. Lets me know where you are and if you're injured. It's mutual-

[

It's mutual. It's mutual ]

...Sorry. Forgot- I can remove it.

[ Now Alex feels bad for Will suddenly hacking up a lung, and he can- he can feel it, internally, a tickle in his chest that isn’t his, a roughness like on a secondary level, it’s fascinating—but also, serves him right, and Alex is able to think that for about two seconds before the gashes on not-his back tingle and scream. Everything reverberates in his chest cavity, endless echolocation.

Alex lets out a breath that’s his, and then breathes it back in. He barely processes it until I can remove it and then he frantically shakes his head. ]

N-no! No, I mean— [ “I felt what you felt. ...I still feel you.” He never understood it before. Not really. He didn’t understand what she meant. ] You don’t... Just, teach me...how to control it. I don’t think it’s bad.

Edited 2019-10-15 00:21 (UTC)

[ Alex shouldn't feel bad at all, if only because once the pain isn't overlaying everything with static, all he gets across is receding guilt and Bottomless Amusement. The special flavor that comes when you watch your best friend fall out of a tree and lose your shit instead of helping him. That picture of Alex flipping out to bad he clocked his own skull is put in a picture frame and taped to the side of his cubicle forever.

Though the question earns this mental flatline for a split second. It's a fair question. But there's a high chance trying to give lessons in this state will just make no fucking sense at all. And it carries the risk of-

No, it's fine. He's too stupid to become a Witch. ] My system might not work. An's hard to explain without a space on hand. Can try giving you something to work with.

Close your eyes and picture a place you know perfectly.

[ Surprisingly, despite that exact feeling of schadenfreude sent so perfectly through their new connection, Alex finds no resentment or anger. In fact, should Will be able to pick up any of Alex's emotions, all he'll get is...some kind of wistful nostalgia?

Almost feels like having Tod back. ]

A place...? Uh... Okay. Alright. ...My room. [ Eyes closed, and the bed he's sitting on is his old twin. Nondescript gray comforter and sheets, books on all sorts of subjects laid out on the desk, in the bookcase, How-Tos and histories. Posters of bands, movies, a car show he went to once. Trinkets from all over brought as gifts from relatives, on windowsill and bedside table. Memorabilia from multiple basketball teams, as he'd never been able to pick a favorite. Large computer monitor, newspapers draped over it haphazardly. Juvenile decor above his bed--a poster of dogs in hats, of dinosaur fossils, like he'd been saying- ] ...told my mom, had to get rid'a the old kiddy stuff eventually, but...I never did.

[ A light smile settles on Alex's lips. He'd spent three months locked in that room, refusing to go farther than just down the hall and still plagued with Death's attempts, and yet... Despite all the fear, it's still the place he'd grown up. ]

Messy pack rat, huh. Maybe your room gave the Hunger indigestion. [ Rude- But it might make it harder. Telling him to just pin the Oath to his unconscious processes for future reference wouldn't make sense at all. Now he has to do the same thing in an area full of distractions. But he doesn't know how mental spaces work outside the loci method, so maybe it being more memorable overrides the too many objects. Worth a shot. ]

Now, with the Oath, you'll want to give it a Form. It needs to be noticeable and it needs to display all the information needed. At the same time, it should be distinctly separate from yourself. Whether it fits into your room or not doesn't matter. As long as it's distinct.

[ That made sense, right? Right. Probably. Shit. ]

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