revivalproject | [ 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 shakes his head. "It is here to observe." Which isn't exactly an answer to the question asked, but it's the information the Archivist passes on. And he follows it up by a plain and rather straight forward question. "Does it scare you?" Idle curiosity. Not everyone actually fears the eye under their feet. Cayde for one has been very set on stomping on it.

"The memory it holds won't activate unless you reach out for it, though." A small piece of advice.

The oddness of the question brings Viktor up short for a moment. Did an actual giant eyeball scare him?

"...well I find it extremely disturbing. I don't think that's the same as fear, though."

Facing death has a curious way of reshuffling your priorities.

"As well as disgusting. The human eye is covered in mucus, and I don't want to put my hand in that."

For a moment the Archivist is silent, then he lets out a tiny noise of bemusement. "What makes you believe it to be human?" The bemusement ebbs away in the ripples left by the Archivist's voice, softening it again. "Being unsettled by something disturbing, something... Unnatural... It's what births the fear of the unknown. The Stranger..."

The Archivist falls silent again for a moment. But only a moment in which he considers the reflection of the carousel and his expression darkens. "...right."

...well the idea that it wasn't a human eye is somehow even more unsettling. Viktor followed Jon's gaze toward the image of the carousel. He didn't exactly touch it but maybe it was enough just to be focused on it for this dream to take effect.

Looking at any of the reflections fortunately doesn't have any effect aside from being potentially nauseating to some. Though the Archivist catches the look regardless. He opts to give a brief summary of the memories' content. "I destroy an unpleasant creature of the Stranger in that one."

That gave Viktor pause of a different kind. Victor had gotten the impression that Jon didn't usually kill people so 'destroy' must mean something else.

"How did you do that, exactly...?"

Being too curious got you in trouble already his conscience mocked him.

"Hm." There is a moment of silence following that question. "Martin liked to use the term smiting." He offers with a small gesture. He has yet to decide how to feel about that word being used.

"She was dangerous and needed to be removed. So I did just that."

Viktor glanced back at the image of the carousel again.

"...right."

He muttered mostly to himself, then licked his dry lips and cautiously reached a hand out to try to touch the image...

The reflection shivers, then expands and in a flash of light, the room is gone and what is left is the carousal. A carousal that stretches an impossible length from one end of the visible horizon to the next. The wooden horses look old, wood splintered and paint chipped. As for their riders... Well. Most of these near inhuman looking creatures lack a face on their skulls.

But the carousal isn't the focus. It's the backdrop. In front of it stands a distorted figure with too many joints, too long limbs, its face a distorted grimace of seething rage.

"She can’t touch us." Jon exclaims calmly as the creature growls and snarls. He is turned to walk away from it, but obviously has paused in his steps. "We’re so far beyond her now. She’s just like everything else here: ruled by the Eye." Jon clarifies further, giving the slightest little laugh. "And she hates it."

The creature lets out something like a roar and begins talking: fast and angry. "Well of course you want to wallow in my shame like your voyeur master. Do you know how it feels? To be – anonymous? And yet known! To have all the sweetest dread I can create tainted by the relentless gaze of that damned Eye. I’ve suffered enough."

Jon makes a face, his response cold. "Pathetic." He turns his attention to the young man by his side. "Martin, let’s go." He doesn't get a response from Martin as the creature cuts in again. "Not as pathetic as your little friend when I ate her life." There is a drawn, dangerous pause and Jon takes a step back to face the creature. His voice is now low, deadly. "What did you say?"

The creature does not respond. A soft static bursts in, just in the background and the creature draws a sharp breath. "I-I’m sorry." The circus music from the carousal shifts key, becomes higher and Martin turns to Jon, concerned. "Jon?"

"You were wrong, you know." Jon says, his eyes on the creature and the static rises. The creature cries out in pain, small, whimpering sounds. The Archivist’s voice and gaze are relentless. "There is more suffering than you can ever experience, so much more. The horror of your victims, their constant, senseless agony." The static builds and builds and builds over his words, the creature starts crying out as terror floods it. "Feel it now. Understand it. You have drawn out so much despair, and now finally, it’s your turn." The static reaches its upper register, the most scrambled of its tones. This isn’t the Archivist’s typical static; it doesn’t take an angelic quality. It’s squeaky, variable, stronger, harsher.

The creature is now sobbing, but Jon isn't finished with it. His voice raises, commanding. "Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing."

The static pushes at the edges. It bounces, thumps, throbs in the ear. A new, lower-register segment has arrived; it sounds rather like a drill bit. This is the sort of static that, if louder and more intense, could blow out speakers, put pressure on the eardrum. The creature wails once more "No! No, please, no!" The static mounts and swells and bursts and reality glitches visibly The creature screams a final wavering and distorted 'No!' and then fades, being torn apart and out of existence. The static lingers briefly, but fades quickly after.

And the memory being played back, finishes. The Archivist remains silent, but doesn't seem to have any regrets in regard of the memory. "She deserved it."

Viktor said nothing for a long moment. It was true that Jon wasn't a killer, but giving someone a fate that was probably worse than death, even if that someone was a thing and not a person, said something about Jon's mental state. Viktor was in no position to pass any moral judgments on Jon though. How did you explain that you had essentially fed an actual living person who was strong and vital to the hexcore? Do you say you felt guilt over it? That guilt wasn't enough to let you destroy the hexcore so it didn't matter much in the end. Viktor kept the same carefully blank expression as he looked at Jon.

"Is that something you often do?"

He meant the sacrificing part, but the question was definitely open to interpretation.

"I dispatched of a few monsters that way. But it's not usually part of a regular archiving job." And that's what he had originally applied for. "This creature... It had killed one of my assistants and assumed her place Without anyone noticing. That's- Its power. It has been active and hunting for God knows how long. And it tried to kill me as well when I was unable to defend myself. Destroying it was very much personal in the end."

[ open ] Calibrations of an Archive

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Some hinted at body horror here, but nothing explicit.

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