revivalproject | [ open ] Calibrations of an Archive

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[ open ] Calibrations of an Archive

WHO: Jonathan Sims & YOU
WHERE: Jon's Headspace
WHAT: Calibrations!
WHEN: Calibrations Event
WARNINGS: Eyes, Body Horror, Death, Talk of Death & Genocide, Apocalyptic Themes, Fears & Traumas - All the Good Stuff™

Mingle

Over here~

Calibrations

This room is hardly a room, it's a nightmare. Circular and certainly the rough dimensions of a room with an incredibly high ceiling, it lacks distinctive features such as walls, windows, furniture or even an obvious floor to walk on. Instead, the visitor of this room find themself walking on an eye, its pupil focused right on the visitor and thus always right underneath their feet. Kick it, if you like. Poke it. Aside from the pupil constricting briefly, it won't react. Though it sure will feel like poking an actual eye, and doing so may result in something else.

Once one has been able to look away from the eye under one's feet and instead directs their attention up, the visitor may be able to locate the Archivist. Suspended high above the ground, he sits on nothing in particular, one leg over the other and his chin resting in his hand. His posture is relaxed, his unblinking eyes glowing an eerie, yet soft green and his expression one of interest as he watches.

He awaits his visitor's decision.

The decision as of which part of the circular surroundings that aren't walls they end up approaching. As has already been established, there aren't any real walls. And yet, this room is surrounded by different reflections of different memories, each of which can be approached to trigger the respective memory. There is the flickering image of a small cottage, cozily nestled in a quite picturesque mountain landscape. Next to it, the image of a garden, its various flowers being the twisted bodies of what may have been regular people at some point. The glitching expressions on their faces may give away that these people are very much still alive.

Luckily, the following reflection is that of a merry-go-round. A close-up, most likely, for all the visitor actually sees of it are the wooden horses moving past, carrying their faceless riders. Following this comes the reflection of a large, burning building and the one next to it is a dark street, the image flickering and glitching. Then there is the reflection of a massive spider web made of the magnetic tape from spooled off cassettes. The entire web glistens as glowing symbols appear to run along it. The last of the reflections is that of a long corridor with numbered doors to either side. The entire corridor, however, is twisting notably around itself.

Which of these memories will the visitor approach, or will they, instead, address the owner of this gathering of nightmares?

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The Archivist is, indeed, watching. Just as is the Eye below. The man that has entered the room isn't a stranger. The Archivist has seen him around. And on the network. This one doesn't speak verbally but with gestures.

For now the Archivist doesn't move closer or offer any explanation aside from wordlessly gesturing around him with one hand. It's a space. The space his mind may or may not have made up and for now it's up to the visitor to decide on his next move. Will he chose to communicate or pick one of the memories surrounding them...

The man - wasn't that... Jon? - doesn't seem interested in coming down to Lerith's level, so the elf looks around. If it was like the other rooms, then there were memories around. He shouldn't touch stuff - what if there was something Jon didn't want to share?

There's a glint on his eyes as he looks around (everywhere but below him), then back to Jon above. He's relaxed a little, but there's still apprehension on his face.

[I don't want to touch your memories. They're not mine to touch.] The elf takes a couple of steps forward in an attempt to get off of the eye with no such luck. [Your room is... different. Are you okay?]

After taking in the other's gestured words, the Archivist nods once at the decision that has been made. "Fair." He replies in a calm, yet strangely layered voice that appears to cause ripples around it as he lowers himself towards his visitor, yet never touches the eye underneath himself.

"I have nothing to hide, but- I understand that these can be... Unsettling." A pause. "You may want to define okay for me to answer that question." To him it makes sense that his room may be different. He himself has changed plenty between this calibration and the last.

There's a cautious step back, like Lerith's giving space between them in case it's Jon's intention to hurt. Thankfully it's not. He sounds weird though. Those glinting eyes glance around at the voice, then focus back on Jon.

[Very unsettling. I haven't seen a room like this before. I mean 'okay' as in are you okay in your mind?] And it wasn't signed like an insult. Lerith looked concerned that something had maybe happened to the man that did something terrible to his mind. People probably wondered with Lerith's room being like a cage with blood running through it. [Your voice sounds... different.]

The Archivist considers the question quietly before finally replying. "A lot of me is... I have changed. I have decided to become something else. Something that isn't human." He looks down to the eye below. "But I consider my mind to be okay. Even here where thoughts are... Difficult." And it may well remain that way for him until they are being released from these tunnels.

Lerith listens, in case there's something actually wrong and he can help. He tilts his head, not entirely sure of what Jon means. There had been talk of red lyrium corrupting people in one of the snowy areas of Thedas, warping them into monsters... Was it like that?

The elf doesn't hide looking over Jon and looks questioningly at him. [I don't understand. You look human to me? Maybe you are a mage because you can float? And your eyes glow. Oh, maybe you are an elf?] Though the glow of the archivist's eyes were different than the elf's. [I am sorry your thoughts are difficult. Would going to a memory help? Maybe... a nice one?]

"None of these are nice memories, I am afraid." The Archivist answers. "And I am neither of these things. I am- The Archivist. Or to some, the Archive. The Pupil of the Great Eye. Also known as Beholding or The Ceaseless Watcher. The Fear of being watched, followed, judged, having your secrets known..." His words crackle as he speaks. "I am the physical representation of an Entity that feeds on observing your terror. I direct its gaze, channel its powers and understand its knowledge." Another brief pause. "But I was human once."

Though he won't stop Lerith from picking any of these memories. The little introduction, however, can easily be interpreted as a warning of what to expect.

Jon had a very big title, which made him seem like a very Important Man to someone like Lerith. Only important people had titles like that, and the bigger the title, the bigger the importance. [Your entity would have a feast if he stayed in the villa I lived in, in Tevinter.]

He hears the warning though, notes it silently. [I think you are still a bit human. An entity of fear and terror wouldn't have been as nice to me as you have I think. When we first communicated, you signed to me, even though I could hear you. You wanted me to be comfortable with how I talked.] His signs were firm in that, because Lerith was stubborn when he tried to see the good side of people. Living with someone as cruel as his owner gave him the mindset that no one could be like that.

(...Maybe the Entity was actually part of his owner...)

[If the memories are not nice, I will not touch them. I won't make you revisit them, Jon. We can stay here until we wake, or your dream lets me go.]

Those are unexpectedly kind words from someone who just learned what Jon has chosen to become, and the Archivist smiles in return before looking down at his own hands, shifting them around with uncertainly, fingers wiggling.

He knows that if he were to try to sign anything now, it would be nonsense.

"I... I'm afraid I can't communicate that way at the moment. This kind of knowledge... It is granted to me by the Eye." And he has no connection to his patron while they are in these tunnels. "I will be able to sign again once we are released."

He looks back up from his hands and back at Lerith, shrugging once. "The Eye and that which it is part of had plenty to feast back on my Earth. And if I am to guess... It enjoys us all being stuck here as well."

Lerith had lived for so long in a villa filled with cruelness. He had stepped in to save another slave only to be punished for it. He knew terror, he knew wickedness and the elf wished he didn't. But he also knew of kindness and how it helped others grow. You didn't yell at plants or uproot them, cut off their limbs, and expect them to grow.

In this crumbling city with only a small group of people to call it's civilians, Lerith wanted to show even after cruelty and terror, that people still deserved kindness and empathy.

[You do not have to sign to me here. I can hear, I just cannot speak. My voice was taken from me.] He watches fingers wiggle like Jon hadn't seen them before. He's about to cover them with his own when the human - yes, he was sticking with that - stopped to look back at him. [Your entity eye sounds like my owner. Former owner.] Right, he wasn't a slave anymore, the collar was gone. [Cruel and likes watching people suffer.]

He frowns and glances down at the eye he stood on, then quickly back to Jon. [Is there somewhere else I can stand? That's not... on this eye?]

"Fear is not cruel, it just... Is." Jon muses in response to Lerith's observation. And that's the simple truth. Fear doesn't know cruelty. It doesn't understand the world the way sentient beings do. It just exists. And as long as it gets fed, it is content.

But rather than going on this particular tangent that Jon's mind currently doesn't feel too capable to engage with, the Archivist allows his attention to be drawn down to the eye below, and from there around the barren space that appears to represent his mind. Were he not cut off from the eye, it may be a lot messier. "I... Don't believe so. I'm sorry." He turns back to the elf. "Our time here is limited, however. I will have to ask you to try and ignore it until this space releases you, I'm afraid."

"I... I have a question, however." He inclines his head slightly. "Your voice... Have you ever wished to have it returned to you...?"

[Don't apologize. It is a place to stand,] Even though it was rather unnerving to say the least. [I can do that. If I can escape slavery of seventeen years and make my way to freedom, I can ignore an eye or two.]

Lerith gives an encouraging grin, keeping his focus on Jon. He mirrors the head tilt, though his dips more, looking like a dog focusing on what was being said.

[Of course. It is rare for people to know Sign, especially in my world, so it makes communication difficult. I have to rely writing things down, or typing in Temba. By the time I've written what I have to say, the conversation has moved on.] The scarred face turned to frustrated expression. [It is frustrating, but it is what my owner wanted as my punishment.]

Jon nods his understanding. He is quite used to wait for others to find their words, so he doesn't mind waiting for Lerith to finish writing.

"I will gladly sign for you again. When I am able to. But I wonder if maybe... Maybe Billy can help you. With your voice." He gestures towards his own neck, where his vocal cords are. It only feels right that the elf should get a chance to properly rid himself of any reminders of his time as a slave. Lerith is no one's slave here after all. No one here has the right to place any punishments on him, especially not such needlessly extreme ones.

"Not that I can promise anything, but... Billy controls powerful magic and uses it to heal people as well. It won't hurt to ask."

Lerith shakes his head with the same frustrated look. [Im just glad someone can understand my signing. I don’t need to be signed back to.]

Theres a frustrated sigh and he takes a moment to calm down. [I will ask Billy whenever we are free from the room. Bull and Reeve have helped a lot getting my slave collar off and I need to learn to control my magic first.]

"Right, that- It makes sense." The Archivist offers a smile.

"I am glad to hear you have found some assistance already." He doesn't know Bull, but considers Reeve a friend and isn't surprise the man would also try helping the elf where possible. "Your magic... Did you once know how to use it?"

The question makes the elf go stiff. Lerith looks away, a hard scowl contorting his usually kind features. [No. I didn't know I was a mage. And I am... scared of magic. It's why I cannot speak, it's why my face looks torn into. I need to learn to control it so I don't hurt anyone.]

And he was using 'control' as a means of 'never using it'. At least it wasn't lightning magic.

[I have no memories before I was a slave. I woke up in a cage with others before I was sold to my owner.] He turns so that Jon can see the back of his head, where a white, jagged scar marrs where hair doesn't grow anymore.

"I... I'm sorry that happened to you." Jon says, almost reaching out to brush a finger over that mark. A mark that is guaranteed to come with unpleasant memories.

Jon gives a small frown. "The question is... If learning about your time before would help you or if you'd rather focus on what lies ahead of you." The past isn't always the greatest place to revisit, as the memories shining around them may prove. "But I hear you. About learning to control a power you weren't familiar before. I struggled for years to learn a semblance of control, but- It took an apocalypse for me to gain any. I will help you where I am able to."

[Don't be. You didn't do it. You didn't cut into my face or neck like this.] He knows they're words of sympathy instead of an actual apology, but Lerith's frustration always wiggled logic out of his immediate thoughts.

He sighs and the frustrated look turns into a saddened one. [I just want to know who I was before all of this.] The elf shakes his head and gives a small smile that's just not there in his eyes. [I'm a guest in your head and I am making it all about me. Probably rude of me.]

The Archivist gives a soft little laugh and shakes his head. "It's fine. I'm the one that keeps asking questions. I suppose... I don't need the Eye to be curious." His expressions sobers somewhat. "However... With my powers... I could... I can access a person's memories. Even repressed ones. I can... Pull out the truth, but- I... I can't lock them away again."

He takes a moment to look around their surroundings. "Not- Not like this."

Lerith looks to Jon at the laugh, the smile starting to glimmer in his eyes. Okay, at least it wasn't rude then. [I would rather know where I come from, good or bad, than think I've only been a slave my whole life. I was a slave for seventeen years. I had to be someone else before that.] Someone that was worth more than the coin spent.

The elf wanted to know what he was robbed of before waking up in that cage in Tevinter. [I don't think it would work in here anyways. It is just... a dream, right?]

"No. Not here, but... When I am reconnected again. To the Watcher." The Eye that longs to observe and learn and uncover any secrets. And this may be one of the very few cases where Jon would willingly access his patron's powers without the goal to destroy something.

Jon frowns a little. "I understand- Wanting to know. I... I wasn't aware you have forgotten." Or maybe he had been forced to forget. Magically.

A nod. Here wouldn't be good obviously. Maybe whenever they were released from the tunnels. In case Lerith had to run away because of terror. There wasn't any place to do that in the waiting rooms.

[I have tried to remember. It's like a hole where I can't reach. When I try too hard it hurts. It gives me a horrid headache.] So the elf had stopped trying to wrack his brain to figure out what he was missing. [But if you wanted to try after we are free, I want you to.]

Jon simply nods. "I will try what I can to help you remember, Lerith." Though even Jon doesn't know how far the Eye really can see. But- There may be a chance.

After these words are said, the light of the reflections around them starts to dim, and Jon looks up and around, and smiles softly. "Seems... You are allowed to leave soon."

Lerith didn't know how things would work out with it, but what was the worse that could happen for him? That part of his memory would still just be an empty void, inaccessible for him. And good or bad, remembering anything would be nice.

As the lighting changes, Lerith looks around a bit wildly, thinking the worst immediately. When nothing came, the elf calmed again. Definitely looked sheepish at the reaction. [You are a very good man, Jon. I hope I remember this when we wake.] He gives a half-cocked grin and pats the man gently on the shoulder. [And I hope you get good memories soon to visit.]

Lerith's surprise in response to the sudden change around them isn't too surprising and not something Jon will hold against the elf. But he nods. "Last time we remembered." He notes and as the light fades even further until only the Archivists own glowing eyes remain to cast a small amount og light, he adds, with the smile clear in his tone alone: "Thank you."

With his words, a triangular shape is outlined on the floor in front of Lerith. A faint green glow indicating the position of the trap door leading him out of Jon's dream.

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mutedsuspicions - 2022-06-26 17:22 (UTC) - Expand

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