Of Heart Breaks and other Intermissions

[beholding_archivist]

WHO: Jonathan Sims & you~
WHERE: Various
WHAT: May catch-all
WHEN: What remains of May
WARNINGS: He has cigarettes and feels terrible. Horror themes may pop up?

Cigarette Break [ hospital ]

A large slab of rubble a little away from the hospital's the emergency entrance has come to be Jon's preferred place to take a break. Or to just linger around to pass some time between cleaning up. Or to dwell on what sits on his mind.

It's that piece of rubble Jon can be found on. Sitting cross-legged and leaning against an even bigger piece of rock, a cup of tea next to him and a cigarette between trembling fingers. It's not lit and Jon makes no move to light it. Instead, he simply stares at it. He knows exactly who has left these anonymously for him and that... It still hurts.

Just another rejection, right? Those just seem to be happening to him... No one really wants him, no one needs him. Even here at the hospital. Not that he has any medical training to offer. Or any helpful magic. He's hardly even any use at cleaning this place up.

And he's getting tired of it. Tired of feeling useless. Tired of getting rejected. Tired of not knowing what to do.

Altair should arrive at the hospital soon, right? He has meant to talk to the Chiss. Though at this point Jon wouldn't mind any interaction that doesn't end with feeling rejected.

Reality Break [ around the city ]

Taking some time away from the hospital as well as the library feels necessary every now and then. There are still plenty of areas he hasn't explored yet and wandering about... Well. Aside from trying to fix things, what else really is there to do?

Jon spends a good amount of time in the Northern part of Temba. The gaping hole in the ground that used to be a mine is quite effectively keeping his attention for some time. Whatever has happened here to cause this damage... He wants to know. It has to have been dreadful. He also makes it to the hangar, wandering inside and instantly feeling just as lost as he has been on his first visit to this place.

He still can't believe these are actual space ships. But he doesn't enter the one he has been assigned to either. Just takes a moment to stare.

The entire North-Western area, not far from where he has claimed some small personal place for himself, is entirely peculiar. He will wander along the fenced-off structures thoughtfully. No one would stop him if he were to try and break into one of these, right? Has someone ever tried? All he needs is to find a way over or through these fences... Though as much as he contemplates the possibilities, Jon makes no move to try entering. If the tunnels have taught him one thing, then it's to at least attempt to prepare for such excursions.

Heading towards the forge..... Now that's a mistake Jon realizes once he draws near enough to spot the structure in the distance. And there he stops, guts twisting uncomfortably as his mind helpfully replays Tony's words to come by the forge for him to finally fix that broken front camera on Jon's phone.

A crack Tony remains responsible for in a way. Just as the man is responsible for invoking false hopes and false security and- Christ. The Archivist mutters something under his breath before he turns and makes to leave the area again before everything comes bubbling up yet again.

Lunch Break [ amphitheater ]

The large amphitheater is empty when Jon enters it. At least a center area at ground level is, and he doesn't bother to check thoroughly. At least he isn't walking into another training session and just may be able to distract himself and his mind for at least a short while. He crosses the entire area until he reaches one of the lowest benches and sets his satchel down on it before pulling out his tape recorder and the book Cayde has given him.

Right. It's about time he gets to read and record this. And as the library lacks a room that doesn't ruin any recording attempts through excessive echoing, one of the theaters will have to do. The acoustics in them has been the most acceptable during his testing.

He sets the recorder down at the bench and presses down the record button before stepping out into the center of the theater, opening the book once he has taken his place and opens it on the first page, muttering a little at being reminded just what the Exo has done to the book "...Jesus, this is a mess." But he still clears his throat.

"An account of Cayde-6, Hunter Vanguard of the Last City. Recorded by Jonathan Sims. ..." And he proceeds to read what Cayde has written between the actual text of the book, finding it easy and soothingly familiar to let himself drift off and let the written words carry him and his mind away at least for a little while.

God he really has missed doing this, hasn't he...

If anyone is to wander into this, they get the chance to test just how jumpy the Archivist can be. If they were in the theater from the very beginning, maybe enjoying a little nap on one of the upper ranks, they can either enjoy the reading, or yell at him to shut the hell up.

Mental Break(down) [ library ]

The shelves of the library remain depressingly empty, even as Jon slides Cayde's book onto one of them with the neatly labeled tape recording of its content sitting right on top of it. He sighs, shoulders slumping as he lets his hands drop to his sides.

It's just as empty as he feels, isn't it. How... fitting.

Why does he even still bother to try? It's not like anyone here needs or wants him around. Even the Agrii have gotten very quiet. Maybe their captors have been attacked and wiped out by now. That United Federation of Planets T'Pring spoke of doing away with this potential threat. It's possible, right? And they are not trapped on this planet for good.

So why does he still bother trying? Can't he just give in at last? Cast off whatever shreds of humanity tie him down and be the monster he can still hear Helen encourage him to be? Turn this city into a hunting ground. Draw out dark secrets and terrors and leave everyone with their own, personal nightmares until his actions get him hunted down by all these heroes.

A humorless, shallow laugh echoes through the empty library halls. Heroes do need monsters to hunt, right? Maybe that's his place after all.

Comments

[beholding_archivist]

“Do you, though?” Jon asks, frowning slightly at Altair “Do you really understand?”

He isn’t going to offer an answer to that. Instead, Jon watches the Chiss that has just admitted himself that his own attempt of dealing with his issues hasn’t been very successful, yet still refused to do anything about them.

[kallig]

"I... Was it wrong of me to assume that you prefer the library to the hospital?"

Maybe he'd gotten the wrong read on that one. Maybe Jon was going to spend more time at the library to avoid spending so much time with him. Maybe he came across as a threat now, or like he didn't want Jon around, and was chasing him away.

He could probably try to get some indication through the Force, but he wasn't prying deeply. And he wouldn't, either.

"If it's something else, or something I've done..."

He trailed off.

He wanted to know, of course. But he wouldn't push for answers.

[beholding_archivist]

Jon simply sighs, then takes another drag of his cigarette “This not about you, Altair. I feel useless.”

He lets that simple comment sit, then adds: “Useless and... I feel like I may end up putting your patients at risk.” This is something he hasn’t told Altair yet, his rather... unusual relationship with fear. Having Sansa give birth has made it so much more apparent to him.

[kallig]

"... Sounds like there's something you're going to need to tell me."

Both about why he felt useless, and why he thought he'd be a risk to the hospital's patients.

"So I'm listening. I'm not going anywhere."

He assumed that Jon wouldn't have brought it up, if he didn't want to share. So Altair would listen, and try to understand. Try to help too, if it was within his power to do so.

[beholding_archivist]

And for a prolonged moment Jon simply looks at the Chiss. Then, he chuckles. One low, sharp and humorless sound.

“You really haven’t noticed, have you?” He asks, letting his compulsion seep into his words. Allowing unseen claws try to dig into the Sith’s mind while lightly inclining his head, staring at him unblinkingly. “You never asked yourself why I don’t sleep? Or eat...?”

Jon focuses, exhales and closes his eyes, effectively easing away the pressure on Altair’s mind. His point should be clear enough.

“What do you think I am?” No compulsion on this one, but Jon’s voice is soft, tired.

[kallig]

"Is that something I should have been asking about? When you've seen what I've seen, you- Well, there's not much that can surprise me, any more."

He shook his head, and let out a sigh.

"At home, I've met ghosts. Even hosted a menagerie in my head, for some time. Servant of Ergast, Darth Andru, Kalatosh Zavros, and Horak-Mul. I... Ate them, is as good a word for it as any, I suppose. Horak-Mul is still with me, but it's not like they're the only..."

He shook his head again, feeling something like a mix of fear and hatred. He pushed it back down. Valkorion was dead. He was never coming back. Didn't stop the light crackle of electricity at his fingers though, more from his hatred than his fear.

"Let's just say that once you've seen all I've seen. Experienced all I've experienced. You stop asking. With the friends I have too, they're an... Interesting bunch. Like my Dashade. He eats Force-users."

What he was trying to say was that while there was certainly something not quite- something different- what reason did he have to use his connection to the Force to pry into business that was not his? Jon was his friend.

That was all he needed to know.

Anything else? He didn't care about unless it was something Jon needed to talk about. Something he needed to share. Something that troubled him, or he needed help with.

"So why don't you tell me? Or is this an invitation to start prying through the Force?"

There's a gentle bit of snark to that question.

[beholding_archivist]

The Chiss earns himself another long stare for that response and Jon finishes his cigarette in that time before simply shaking his own head "I would advice against trying, Altair. You might end up hurting both of us."

Yes, he means that. Because he will fight back such an attempt. His eyes narrow a little at the Sith.

"And apparently... It doesn't matter to you what I have to say. You have seen everything, done everything, achieved everything. Who am I to bother you with trivialities so very beneath your experiences, achievements and those hardships you have overcome?" The Archivist sounds disappointed rather than impressed. Just another time of being given the feeling of being useless.

Jon lets those words standing between them as he gets to his feet and wanders over to the edge of the piece of rock to climb down from it with a soft sigh "Whoever it was that upset you enough to tear down those buildings, Altair, they aren't entirely wrong: You do lack empathy. And you will need that in order to take care of your patients."

[kallig]

"That's not..."

What a dark feeling. It's not anger. Not hatred. Fear, dread maybe. Because maybe... Maybe he's the same kind of monster as every Sith. Two people can't be wrong. That he doesn't have empathy. What a sinking, hollow feeling. That he's every bit the scum that any run of the mill Sith is.

"Not what I meant..."

It's quiet. Maybe too quiet to even be heard.

"I guess two people can't be wrong then. Suppose I'll quit."

There's only second between when he feels the sting of tears and when he can feel them falling. It hurts. The shreds of-- something. He'd thought they were empathy. But apparently they're just random feelings. Pride, self-satisfaction, maybe? A desperate desire to prove he's a person, too? Altair isn't sure.

"Suppose we both are."

He too stands, and turns to walk away- he needs space. It's not anger this time. It's something so much worse.

"Goodbye, Jon."

[beholding_archivist]

Upon hearing that, Jon spins around, an expression of furious disbelief on his face "Have you gone mad?! You have taken on a responsibility here and now you want to walk away because someone criticized you? What about Sansa?"

What, indeed. The medical data points only deliver some knowledge about the broken machines and fluids in the hospital. No actual medical knowledge of any practical use for them. So far Altair's healing magic has been their best bet. And now Altair... Feels hurt? And wants to quit because of that? Shouldn't an Emperor stand above such things...?

[kallig]

"Criticized?"

There was the rage.

He turned on his heel, to spin around to look at him, "Criticized?! I was trying to ask you to be blunt with me! If something bothers you, if you're worried, if something's wrong, if I'm missing the point or confused or not listening as much as you need me to, you need to say it outright!"

Much as he tried to keep it under control, he couldn't control the crackle of electricity around him, "Don't know if you noticed, but me and emotions?! We're not close!"

He breathed in, sharply, "But whatever, right? No empathy, right? What's the use of someone like me playing healer, then?!"

Really. Honestly.

"But I'll give you a parting gift- I intend to keep helping Sansa and her son. I don't intend to let them down. Everyone else? They're on their own! Might as well go back to what we had before the storm! No one has any use for a healer who obviously can't feel for them, anyway!"

[beholding_archivist]

"Oh, please! You're acting immature, Altair!" And displaying a remarkable lack of control. Jon won't back away from the electricity, though he makes a face at Altair speaking of playing healer. As it it is some sort of game.

Well, to be fair. Altair is acting like a child that has lost a round in a children's board game. So Jon will treat him that way.

"You know what, you are right. If you can't be reasoned with or act like an adult, obviously you can't be trusted with such responsibility."

[kallig]

"Obviously I can't."

Somewhere along the way, everything became all twisted up.

As Emperor, all he needed to be was a symbol that everything was going to be alright. As a friend, all he needed to be was a shield and a blade between his friends and anything that might hurt them. There was a lot he didn't know.

He knew that.

He could be blunt, and he could be extremely dense. He knew that too.

But this? It hurts. Aches. Hits exactly in those same sore spots that he hasn't quite gotten around to burying yet.

Maybe he should have known his place all along. That's what it feels like. And on some level he knew he was being dramatic. He knew that. But it was difficult to focus on with everything else on top.

"... I liked you. I really did."

Truly.

"But obviously I'm not the only person here who needs to practice acting like an adult. Deciding to jab your fingers directly into a spot you know is sore... You'd make an amazing torturer."

[beholding_archivist]

Now that makes even Jon flinch back with a wince crossing his face. Though he catches the notion and his expression turns dark again.

"Seriously? Are you trying to guilt trip me now?" He lets out a sharp exhale through his nose and crosses his arms. Right. As if he weren't feeling guilty enough for enough things already.

"Well. As obviously we are being honest: I thought you above all this. You, who traveled the universe, acts as a leader, has seen and experienced more than any of us... And here I see you falter over a little argument. Even trying one of the most childish psychological manipulation techniques on me. Seriously!" Sorry, Altair. He's still a millennial and will call you out even though he respected you. Probably still wants to, but... He's not unused to cutting people out of his life if necessary.

And so he just shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, Altair. But please, leave. We may talk again once you calmed down. In the meantime... Please don't hurt anyone. Including yourself."

[kallig]

"I see. So you had a completely wrong image of who I am in your head."

He supposed he couldn't blame him for that. After all, there's so much of his past that very few people know.

His position on the Dark Council, then as an Emperor. In the story of his life, those two chapters, being in control, those are the shortest chapters by far. And Emperor at least was an act of desperation more than anything else. Because he didn't want the galaxy to suffer more after the long war, the way he once had suffered.

The Sith says nothing else- merely turns and walks away.

He needs some time to cool his head.