revivalproject | Make your Statement, face your fear.

Entry tags:

Make your Statement, face your fear.

WHO: Jonathan Sims & YOU
WHERE: Jon's Calibration Room
WHAT: Explore the Archivist's mind
WHEN: During the Calibration Event [ June 3rd - July 10th ]
WARNINGS: EYES - Body horror, possible mentions of unsettling events including kidnapping, death and dreadful monsters

The Archivist's office is a mess. Most offices are. Especially offices located in basements. Offices that belong to equally chaotic archives. And the archives of the Magnus Institute are incredibly chaotic. Gertrude Robinson has seen to that. And yet the mess in this office isn't hers. It's the mess of the current Archivist, right now seated behind his cluttered desk, appearing even smaller than he actually is, the small lamp on the table serving as the only actual source of light in this room. In front of the Archivist sits a small pile of statement files on a dining plate, but his attention isn't on the files, it's on his visitor.

There are more of these files spread all over the room. Cardboard boxes full of them stacked high and pushed into whatever free corner has once existed in it. Further boxes are stacked less high or are plain lying around, some closed, some opened, some rummaged through. Other, smaller boxes that aren't filled with files join the previous ones. There are also a few metal shelves covering part of the walls. And file cabinets. There are more files in these as well as more boxes and books. Most of them scientific in nature, some deal with the arcane, myths and legends. Various types of tape recorders and boxes of tapes are also widely strewn about as well as loose pages of paper, the occasional tea mug and cobwebs. For some reason or another there are at least a dozen fire extinguishers to be spotted throughout the room, and it likely isn't due to the clearly used ashtray or the golden lighter with a cobweb design engraved onto it on the desk near the Archivist's dust-covered laptop, untouched cup of tea and the sole human rib. Aside from more stray sheets of paper and some writing equipment, a single book also resides on the desk, its title introducing it as A Guest for Mr. Spider.

Though there is more to be found in the various shelves as well. A knife as well as a cleaver, an unsuspecting whistle that seems to be surrounded by an odd fog and will vanish should one try to reach for it. Underneath one of the shelves, there even is a plain cardboard box filled with C-4 plastic explosives. Further up, a roughly football-sized dark sun dares the visitor to look at it to plunge them into utter and complete darkness. The frisbee some may recognize as a certain someone's shield seems a little out of place as it lays unassuming on one of the higher shelves, covering an odd little action figure from view.

But maybe one feels more compelled to look out of the window, suspiciously present in this basement office. Outside lies the vastness of space, set to incite the feeling of falling right into it unless one pulls away from the sight in time. Or the human-sized mannequin standing motionless in one of the corners, wearing an ancient gorilla skin along with its top hat and a wide, leery, painted-on grin. It has no eyes. The pulsing, black and red veins creeping along the walls of the office and present themselves in varying sizes and thicknesses may also draw the visitor's attention. Or the seemingly harmless and somewhat misplaced looking yellow door draws them in, just there on the wall behind that coffin lying on the floor as if it belongs there. Thick chains are wrapped around it with a padlock holding them close, key stuck inside and inviting the visitor to unlock it. Just ignore the large letters carved into its wood imploring you to 'DO NOT OPEN' the casket. It'll be fine.

Yet... How tempting all of these things may be, the visitor may be unable to entirely ignore the MASSIVE EYE taking up the entire ceiling of the room, glowing an eerie green and watching their every move. Or any of the other eyes scattered around the room. The walls, the cabinets, the shelves, the side of the Archivist's desk, the corners, the floor, the Archivist's forehead. All shapes and sizes and colors and all of them watching the visitor unblinking, unjudging. Just following their every move around the room - Just as the Archivist himself does.

Maybe you want to look around, and maybe you just want to take a seat in that single empty chair before the Archivist's desk. There is just enough room between it and the casket to not feel too cramped in. As for the trap door next to the Archivist's desk... Now that one won't open just yet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Archivist follows the young man's movements with his eyes, hands clasped on the desk before him. He knows this room is a mess, but he also knows that there is little he can do about it.

Two of his eyes blink at Cloud's struggle with the boxes, the third one doesn't. He then follows Cloud's trail towards the chair, not fully sure what to expect to happen from that.

Touching the chair itself does not trigger a specific memory, but rather flashes of different people sitting in that very chair across the Archivist, talking to him as he listens and takes in their stories, tape recorder running on the table between them. The snippets of tales make no real sense, but aside from the feeling of dread from each of these people as they recount their terrible encounters, each of them radiates a compulsion to share their experience with the Archivist.

It's that same compulsion Cloud will feel pulling on him, urging him to sit down, make his statement and face his fears. The Archivist doesn't judge. He merely watches, listens and records.

Cloud's fingers tighten on the back of the chair as he sees the flashes of memories. It's fuzzy and hazy on what the people were talking about to the Archivist at first. The feeling of dread sinks into him, slowly weaving its way to his gut.

There's something coming over him. Cloud's felt a similar compulsion before but it was meant to be used against his will in a different matter. He can't help but slide immediately into the chair.

"I want forgiveness from someone that's not possible anymore. I couldn't protect her. I had no control over myself." He clenches his hands into fists as they rest against his knees. Why was he giving this encounter away to the Archivist? It's fresh, it's been on his mind.

Even the Archivist isn't entirely sure what sensation overcomes Cloud when he touches the chair, but he watches regardless, feeling his own curiosity rising. When Cloud sits and one of the tape recorders on his desk begins recording, the Archivist simply inclines his head a little at the device, but primarily his attention remains on his visitor.

Oh. Guilt. And loss. Not having been able to protect someone and yearning for forgiveness that has slipped well out of one's reach.... Yes. The Archivist is very familiar with that feeling. He, also, longs for forgiveness.

He doesn't say it, however. Instead, he just nods encouragingly "Tell me what happened?"

This is a dream, right? No one in here can possibly end up getting terrible nightmares from making a statement. Or at least that's what the Archivist hopes.

Is it a dream? Cloud's been thinking that for a while. He's been in dreams that seem so real. A place where even the subconscious mind would show memories that were yours and maybe not yours depending on how split you are. Cloud's not sure why he's sharing a story with the Archivist. An encounter that he could feel that flesh burning emotion creep up to the center of his chest.

He hasn't spoken to anyone else about this matter. Not even Tifa. But that seems to be something that he does. He doesn't tell people certain things. Even friends that should be close. Cloud never told Tifa about his crush on her but being told to not come around her again burned deeply. His guilt runs deeper than this moment.

The compulsion hits and he finds himself speaking once more. Cloud could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. "I had been nothing but a puppet. Being controlled to strike down a friend. I was able to fight back. I didn't strike her down." He resisted the command. "But, she ended up dying in front of me, in my arms. There wasn't anything I could do. He still got what he wanted, even by his own hand."

He didn't know what had been lurking above. He had felt powerless to do anything but only to catch her in his arms after the fact.

Ah. The Web and the Desolation. Manipulation and a loss that didn't need to occur. The Archivist draws it all in, considers it, and nods.

"And you did nothing to stop him." The Archivist concludes calmly, not taking his eyes off his visitor. "How did it feel? Being controlled and unable to safe your friend? Losing her." Those are the interesting parts for the Archivist. The emotions entailed in those events.

"That time is a little confusing. I wasn't quite myself and myself. I felt pain, my eyes were burning, my fingers were tingling. I wasn't going to see her laugh, cry or get angry again. I was angry and upset. I couldn't protect her." Cloud knows that wasn't the first or last time. There's a lot of other times where he feels that way. But he lost someone that had been very close to Zack. He's not sure which were his actual true feelings at first. If he had known it were to happen, would he have enough time to stop it?

"You blame yourself for her death. That's... Understandable. Though maybe not the right approach." The Archivist still blames himself for various deaths, so can he really judge?

"What did you do after it happened?"

"I do." Cloud bows his head a bit knowing the other reason why he does and why he feels that way. "There was a battle, a small goodbye, I land her body to rest in the lake in the Forgotten City. She became part of the Lifestream."

He seems to want to resist this next thing he's going to say but deep down in his subconscious Reeve said telling Jon would be better than someone else. Cloud wouldn't want to ask in their reality after discussing who really is more fitted for the medical field. "I have a disease that came to the Planet. The disease leads to death. It may not be the right approach but I have my reason. I've been trying to find a way to stop it, but," He puts a hand over his left arm giving it a squeeze. "I had almost given up completely. But I found a way to keep fighting, however I'm still not cured and then ended up on Agra 10."

"A disease from the planet?" Jon inquires, tilting his head a little. It's not something he has heard of before, but of course he is curious to learn about it.

"Does it have to do with that... Lifestream? What exactly is that?" Some people come here to poke through his memories. Others teach him new things. Between these two options Jon certainly prefers learning to being studied.

"Geostigma. Yes, it does. The Lifestream forever flows within the Planet. But people would use it for other means." Cloud could finally feel something lift and he quickly gets himself out of the chair. He quickly edges against the desk. There is a desk right?

He slowly glances over at the Archivist. Internally he's really really mad at himself. A chair should feel safe. "What is the purpose of that chair?"

"Something like the lifeblood of a planet, I suppose." It's really more of a guess. Maybe it's similar to oil. A limited resource and the people have found a way to harvest and make use of it, creating this problem - This disease.

He is about to ask about the Geostigma when Cloud inquires about the chair and the Archivist's regular eyes fall back upon it. The one on his forehead of course keeps watching Cloud.

"It's meant to be sit in. By those coming here to give a statement, usually."

Cloud gives a nod at that. He's trying to settle his emotions a bit because that was a lot at once. It'll probably end up getting rougher for him but he can manage it.

"Anyone the Lifestream touched when it came up from within the Planet infected the people. When you die you go to the Lifestream, and things can be created from the Lifestream. Shinra used it to build reactors to power a whole city, but truthfully they were killing the Planet as well." He still feels like sharing because he's doing it willingly.

So it is something similar to oil. A little on the supernatural side maybe, but in theory understandable.

"I see. Your people used the energy that fueled your planet. Sounds like your disease is a defense mechanism of your planet." Which may be something to take to a magical healer, really. Not a man carrying bandages and painkillers.

"I've tried everything I can think of back at home. It very well could be but if we die so does the Planet." Cloud wondered how the cycle would truthfully go after they were gone. "The other side effects is that it does ooze, you have it somewhere on your body and you're weak. So even though I can take on about anything. As soon as I get hit with the pain I can go down."

Jon simply looks at Cloud for a long time, then finally decides to ask a simple question.

"Why are you telling me of this anyway?" In his own mind, no less. Jon is by no means a healer. He doesn't know any powerful healing magic or any particularly helpful magic at all. Doe his mind inspire that idea, by chance?

"Reeve said you might be able to help." Cloud carefully lets his arms drift to his sides as he becomes a bit more relaxed. Even if the true answer is no, he'll have to keep searching here too. He looks at Jon. "He said you were a doctor. But, after the talk you and I had, you're more into books and information."

He shakes his head. "What's with the coffin?"

Now why would Reeve say that? Yes, Jon has helped in the hospital, but he is anything but a healer.

"I'm the Archivist, yes. I did work at the hospital because it is understaffed - That is all." More or less. That Jon is largely responsible for the various drugs used in the hospital isn't a detail he tends to share. "If you seek people with magical abilities that might be of use to you, I suggest either Billy or Altair. The world I come from is one that doesn't have cures for many deadly diseases, I'm afraid. And as for that-" He interrupts himself to point towards the casket "It leads to the Buried. A place that exists outside reality. The manifestation of the fear of being trapped, claustrophobia, being unable to breathe... I don't recommend going in there."

Cloud nods at Jon in understanding. He didn't really have to explain himself. "Since we're going over what we are. I'm a skilled swordsman but here without a sword. I started a delivery service because it was needed where I'm from. People without abilities have a terrible time traveling to other locations due to monsters roaming after the Lifestream. I delivered their mail or whatever they needed no matter the obstacles. I'll owe you for this information about Billy and Altair."

He'll have to seek them out. But he not on a first time meeting basis. It's a heavy topic to bring up to other people. Cloud's going to make sure to not touch the coffin so he crosses his arms in a way to keep his hands from things as he starts to walk about the cluttered office. "What about the mannequin?"

"If you wish to thank me, leave a written report about your world at the library at some point. I would like to learn more about this lifestream and your planet - So far I have nothing on a planet that matches this description." The Archivist says with a simple nod of acknowledgement before his attention is drawn to the mannequin in the corner and his expression darkens notably.

"The Stranger, or I Do Not Know You. It is the manifestation of the fear of the unknown and the creeping sense that something isn’t right. I assume it might be tied to a memory concerning the Unknowing. An attempt at a ritual that could have ended my world." He pauses there. "We... Blew it up along with a wax museum. Very disorienting."

"All right. I should be able to do that." Cloud knows it would take him a bit to write out in a way that would make sense. He might add in a few extra things if necessary. The library would get extra information once they're all free from this place.

There's a small puff to his lips as he realizes that the Archivist kept bringing up a fear. Cloud looks over at the Archivist. "Is there a reason for all the eyes?"

The Archivist simply nods again in appreciative approval before permitting Cloud to direct his attention to the eyes. He folds his arms across his desk and settles with a small smile.

"Do you want to guess? A little hint: They are all watching you."

Cloud shudders at the thought of them all watching. "I'll get over it the longer I'm in this room. It's creepy and unnerving with them everywhere."

He looks at the mannequin biting his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Are you watching with them?"

"I see everything they see, yes. Every single one of them. At the same time." The Archivist answers this in a way that makes it obvious that Cloud isn't the first to answer. Which is also why he adds: "I can point out the ones that are currently trained on your backside as well, yes."

Then there is a pause before he gives the actual answer "It's Beholding. Or The Ceaseless Watcher. The fear of being watched, judged or having your secrets known."

"I..." Cloud raises an eyebrow at the mention of watching his backside. "At least someone has my back if something could go wrong." Why else would that matter?

"Is there a reason for all the fears?" There has to be a connection now. Cloud had brought up his hand and started to count on his fingers how many times the Archivist had spoke of a fear and the meaning.

The Archivist makes a short, almost a little bemused sound "...huh. You are the first to actually ask about that." He has mentioned some of the fears to people, but so far no one truly asked about them.

"There is. There are... Fourteen Entities. Dread Powers... You may... Call them Evil Gods. And they all seek to manifest in my world and reshape it to their liking. The Unknowing had been one such attempt to bring an end to the Earth I know."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject