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

While Jon initially feels flustered by the compliment, he can't help the short laugh at Tony's suggestion "I can assure you that is not going to happen." He looks over his shoulder to locate his past self, now with a bottle of beer in one hand and an open pack of cigarettes in his other, counting and calculating how long he can make them last.

And Jon simply shakes his head.

"No. All I wanted was to be left alone. Stay home, read a few books. Find a normal job..." He has never been a man of great aspirations or goals "Never thought I'd ever leave the country, even. And never wanted to either. Was a little surprised I enjoyed traveling a little while tracking down information about the Unknowing." As he says this and watches himself wander towards the door to step outside, the memory begins to waver.

That was something of a surprise. Not that Jon was an introvert who didn't want the attention, but that he didn't even want to travel. "Lucky you, now you're in another universe. Weren't you curious...?" No wonder Jon felt lost and frustrated. That was a very small life to lead for someone who asked a lot of questions.

Jon wants to laugh as his hands lightly get a hold of the front of Tony's shirt, but he keeps the sound at bay, even as the memory fades for good and takes them back to Jon's mental office. He lets out a small exhale at the silence settling back around them.

"Truth be told, Tony... I do consider myself lucky for having been taken away by the Agrii." And this is something Jon has admitted before, and will do again. Of course it's not easy on Temba, but being there... He has found a lot of time to think and contemplate. Time he hasn't really had before.

It might not have been the first time Jon had admitted it, and he certainly wasn't the first one to express something like it to Tony, but it still made Tony frown with concern that wasn't entirely because he wasn't happy to see that big eyeball and coffin back. From what Jon had to share about his life in this room alone, Tony got the impulse, it didn't seem like he had left a lot of pleasant memories behind-- just like Sansa didn't have a good life to look forward to once her time here was over. There were contexts that Tony would say he appreciated the experience, too, but he didn't think that was what Jon was talking about. Tony schooled the frown into a practiced grin and took Jon's hands, chin up with too much pride to agree, "Company can't be beat."

The office is dark compared to the setting they just left. Dark, quiet and hardly inviting. And yet Jon can't help but find it more suited for himself. He can't blame Tony for feeling a little uncomfortable with the setting. Especially after the majority of the memories he has encountered here - And still could stumble over. These mental spaces can be tricky to maneuver.

Jon looks down at both of their hands before Tony's words pull his attention back up and responds with a softer smile of his own, not entirely fooled by the man's attitude any longer "I'm glad this allowed me to meet you, too." Despite all of those earlier difficulties. "See? You even became part of this place already." Jon adds with a nod upwards one of the shelves, pointing out the silly toy shield Tony just might recognize from a rather peculiar game of duck fishing.

Standing out might have been a challenge in this room, but Tony was surprised he hadn't noticed that when he had been sure he had some kind of Captain America collectible sixth sense. The sharp edges of his smile melted into something more genuine even though he raised a baffled eyebrow as Jon pointed out the frisbee, and he said, "Hey..." because he didn't know what he felt about seeing it between Jon's multitude of mutilations. The question came out as, "Did you keep that?," somewhat dreamily, gaze jumping back to search Jon's face with the same questioning grin, knowing that the shield being in this dream didn't mean Jon actually physically had it somewhere as much as Tony was pretty sure he didn't own this many fire extinguishers. Tape recorders, maybe. He didn't really wait for the answer to the question he wasn't sure he was asking, encouraging Jon to follow with a hopeful, gentle hold around one hand as he reached up to retrieve the shield for them. He really didn't expect to find the action figure and winced.

Tony would be surprised by the actual amount of fire extinguishers in the Archives. The amount may have gone down a little by now, but it can still be hard not to trip over them.

"I, ahm..." Jon at least begins to answer the question around the blush he can clearly feel forming on his face at the reaction. He makes no effort to stop Tony from taking the shield, coming along quite willingly. This is, after all, a memory they share. And by now Jon is well aware that it cuts off before things become awkward and painful. And despite the humiliation Tony puts him through, it's one of the good memories in here.

And while Tony winces at the other toy being exposed, Jon sputters a quick "Christ!" and makes an effort to hide his red face in Tony's chest, muttering something on the lines of being able to explain, but for the most part sounding more unintelligible than anything before.

The memory was an awkward start for Tony, already tense from finding the toy only to watch Jon react to him at the carnival with the exact panic he had been trying to ask Jon about in this room--maybe that was the problem, Jon didn't understand because it did look very much the same as when Tony deliberately made him stutter, maybe it wasn't any different at all and he was picking and choosing when Jon was allowed to react like that. Shoulders starting to curl with despair, Tony almost missed the look than Jon had shot him in the memory next, but it made his heart give the same hitch and thud as it switched gears to realize this memory that Jon was keeping on a shelf was the moment Tony realized he adored him. Did he know that, somehow? He must have been close enough to hear it now, but Tony didn't want to push him away, wrapping the arm still holding the shield instead around his shoulders and muttering, "Look at this asshole now. What did you do this time? He blinds you in public--" Jon's reaction to being spun was still incredibly funny, and Tony's scolding was interrupted by a laugh that he tried to quell in Jon's hair before he continued, less convincingly, "It's like you enjoy the punishment, at this point."

Jon isn't paying too much attention to the memory itself, but he sure can hear and feel Tony's heartbeat and finds it too easy to settle in the comfort the sensation offers. The little shift in it puts an unseen smile on his face and Jon risks a glance up to Tony first, then briefly to the scene of himself being blindfolded and spun around.

The noise he makes is one of weak indignation, but Jon refuses to step away.

"You know, I was a little mad about the blindfold at first." He says, voice soft. "I have gotten so used to... Seeing. Not being able to see - You know that terrifies me. But- I felt... Safe? There was nothing uncontrolled or truly dangerous abut it and- I think I enjoyed it? A little thrill without any risk..." Because actual dangers? He knows those. And he doesn't like those.

"A little mad," Tony quietly echoed with a laugh as Jon said it, but his teasing smile softened at the revelation that Jon was trusting him like that in the memory. He hadn't known then what a gamble it was to blindfold Jon--he hardly understood the implications now, back in the office, the game over far too quickly like it had been the first time, and said, "Wouldn't work here," with a pluck at Jon's collar that brought his fangy smirk back. "But you know I'm more than happy to provide a thrill any time, boss. I'd like to think it was my premiere service." It didn't really last, Tony's expression shifting to an uncomfortable question that this place had already given him about Jon and blindness and making him step back to carefully replace the frisbee like that would help ensure it didn't get lost anywhere in this room. Right, the action figure.

"You stealing from the kids now? Is that part of your dream powers?" he asked after propping the shield up to bring the toy back down and waggle it accusingly. That was a preferable circumstance than anything Tony showing Jon in his own dreams making enough of an impression to cross over.

No, blindfolding Jon in his own headspace wouldn't do anything. Or at the very least it would be very difficult to do, given that the Archivist actively sees everything the many eyes scattered across the room see. So he simply offers an apologetic little shrug - And a smile that is further accompanied by a decision "I will get back to you about future thrilling experiences once this is over."

He lets Tony put the frisbee back, noticing that he actually bothers enough to put it back in its proper place unlike the other items and then has to blink at the action figure, mouth opening in an attempted response, "You..... You remember that Billy gave me a couple of comic books...?"

Which is as far as he gets before the room morphs into the potentially familiar setting of the library, where Jon sits at his little table, a small stack of comic books open on one side while reading one of them with a very stern expression, notepad on his other side and pen in hand, doing his best to analyze what he is reading and looking at. The toy Tony has discovered stands on the table before him and Jon casts comparing glances between the action figure and the drawn images.

Tony took his time swinging his arm around Jon's neck, guiding him to lean against his side so they were both facing this sorry sight that Tony doubted Jon had properly considered from an external perspective yet, the action figure Tony held clutched against his chest. The fingers of his free hand curled restlessly as he realized he had fallen back into the manipulative position so easily, and he dropped his head to the side to lean against Jon's to try to justify the instinct. "You know," he said slowly, waving at the scene, Jon apparently writing a serious essay concerning a silly picture book about Tony's made up bodyguard, "you're allowed to just sit back and enjoy some things. Did you have questions? You seem concerned. Did you need an advisor to look over your work...?" Billy providing him with comics didn't really explain the action figure, unless he had really taken Tony's 'Iron Man is the coolest Avenger' thing to heart. If it was up to Billy, that little hunk of plastic would have resembled Thor or the Scarlet Witch, no doubt.

The guiding isn't the issue for Jon, who will gladly lean against Tony in vague hopes of hiding his face at least a little while watching himself prodding at and fiddling with what basically is a toy of Tony himself. How awkward will it be having to admit that he has outright asked Billy about Tony simply because he has been curious about the man.

"I-" Jon starts, not daring to betray himself by looking up. "I am- I have never read one of these before. A-and knowing that... That these heroes- That they are real people..." And he trails off hopelessly. It's true, though. Comic books were never among the books his grandmother brought home to keep him occupied...

"....I have also never owned a toy like that." Jon further admits, just hoping to shrink away with embarrassment.

That did kind of explain the lack of curiosity; altogether, it didn't sound like Jon was encouraged to have very much imagination in his childhood, which was definitely one area where Tony's parents hadn't left him lacking. "They're not, uh, great representations of the real thing," Tony had to point out about the comics, waving his hand to discourage any assumptions that there was any kind of primary source to be found in those four colours that Jon was pouring over in the library. "They're for kids, you know, and most of us have secret identities, it's not like we're sitting down with Barbara Walters to talk about our childhoods. Don't get it twisted. My dad had me reading all of the Cap comics as a kid, I devoured them, obsessed, because that was his hero, too, and I was supposed to learn to be this perfect, righteous figure of manliness from them while he was in Saudi Arabia or whatever. The real guy, he's..." Well, that was a bad example. But it did a number on Tony's psyche, was the point. The action figure was safer, and Tony wiggled it in front of Jon again to take, gladly threading his fingers through his hair to encourage him to shrink all over Tony if he wanted to. "Never too late for some fantasy, but I gotta say, this one isn't very articulated. I know a guy, get you a real life-like experience if you're into the armor. Nothing to be shy about, I designed it to be sexy."

Jon easily takes the figure back, holding it in his hands and keeping his attention on it while those fingers in his hair ease away the worst of his tensions. "My... My grandmother had to raise me after my parents died when I was very young." He offers in explanation. "She- She didn't have much money. But she did what she could to keep me occupied and out of trouble - Usually with cheap, pre-owned books. Those... Worked. But you can imagine how comic books weren't high on her list of things to look for."

He runs a thumb over the figure's plastic head and tries for a still flustered little smile while the memory fades back yet again, "And... I still don't think the armor is preferable to the one responsible for it, but- I would be lying if I said I'm not intrigued."

"Don't be too hasty. You haven't met him yet," Tony insisted with a grin, full confidence that the Iron Man was easily the more eligible bachelor by all metrics, or he wouldn't have kept it around for so long. With a series of far less traumatic memories that Jon was able to find, Tony found it easier to slip away from him and back around the desk to drape himself into Jon's chair, eyeing the book on the table as he went and considering where Grandma might have picked that one up. So far, the Admiral was as far back as they had gone, and Tony already knew Mr. Spider had some childhood memories to reveal, but he wasn't sure actually witnessing that story would provide any more insight to Jon's younger years than he was already offering. "They didn't work," he corrected belatedly, slow to look up from the desk, but when he did it was with a knowing stare and humble smile.

"Well... No. They didn't." Jon agrees with a sigh and a short shrug, but he also notices Tony's eyes falling on the book, which brings a frown to Jon's face. He refuses to touch the book himself, but picks up a few statement files to put on top of it, fixing a stern look on Tony and shaking his head.

"I watched this one devour an older child when I was eight." He pointedly explains and presses a hand on the files placed over the book, "Don't."

Tony put his hands up in surrender, "I know, you told me, at the..." and pointed back to where they had been standing with the frisbee. That part of the evening at the carnival was what Tony would have expected to find if it appeared somewhere in his own awful dream room, although Jon's look of determination was a compelling contender. Maybe just the whole thing, starting with Jon surprising him by approaching and ending...well. Maybe Jon had made the right choice.

Why Jon didn't want Tony seeing that one in particular was its own mystery, though, after he let Tony witness his other horrors, but maybe he was just catching on to Tony's games and he had slipped out of Jon's distraction techniques. He'd have to find a way from there to stop Tony from tugging open his desk drawers to sate his curiosity if that was what his new commitment was. Tony continued, "Listen, the more you tell me, though, the more I realize I have no idea what you've been talking about. It's like, I know you've said Hunters to me before, but I didn't think that hard about it, and now I'm thinking, what else was I not listening to, you know? And maybe that's a good thing, because I wouldn't have done that--" another vague gesture over the desk toward the shield, "to you if I knew it wigged you out like that, I'm not-- I don't do this stuff just to be an asshole. I don't think. I don't think, that's what it is." At some point, Tony realized he was trying to justify something else entirely, and felt a lot like trying to explain to Pepper why he had missed her birthday again.

It's all Jon can do to slowly shake his head and close his eyes with a sigh, his hand on the files closing into a fist, "That- That's not it, Tony. It just-- He was a child! It's one thing if these memories are about me, but another if... L-look. He may have been mean to me. But-- I will not have anyone watch a terrified, screaming child being pulled to their death by a huge spider." And it's as simple as that.

Though if Tony wants to go through his desk, he is free to do so. He is bound to find more tapes, some batteries, writing equipment and even more files. There isn't anything particularly odd in there at this point.

Jon lets out a sigh and moves around the desk to stand next to Tony, their roles now practically reversed from before, with Tony on the chair and Jon leaning against his desk, his hands at his own sides at the edge of the table.

"And I hope you know you can always ask me to explain these things to you and- I will try? As I said, I don't have all the answers, but I will try. At least I want to believe that by now I also have an idea of the things you feel uncomfortable dealing with - And helplessly having to watch a child suffer ranks very high on that list. I'm having a hard time not to think about it myself too much." And yet every time he sees a damned spider...

Jon wasn't really listening again, whatever Tony's point had been, because it wasn't that, and as soon as Jon made his argument against Tony seeing the spider memory Tony was trying to interject, "No, it's not that--" only half listening to make his own argument and idly picking up the junk the gathered in the drawers of Jon's desk only to toss each item back carelessly when it turned out to be just that, junk. "I'm not gonna look at anything you don't want me to, calm down." Leading with an obvious lie probably wasn't the best choice. "I told you, you've told me about the kid, it's, whatever." He snapped his mouth shut as he snapped the last uninteresting drawer shut, because Jon seemed to have kind of understood as he came around to stand with Tony, leaving Tony drawn up against the desk to lean his head in one hand as he peered up at Jon, looking mildly frustrated.

"I'm uncomfortable with all of it," he pointed out, not interrupting this time, "it's magic. And all it seems to do is hurt you." He took another breath as though he had more to add, only to snap shut again, opening his free hand like it was a foregone conclusion and he didn't have to say how much he wanted to help and felt overwhelmed out loud. Releasing the breath as a heavy sigh, he spread that hand over Jon's stomach to rub apologetically for making him think about the spider kid. "There could be stuff you're not seeing," he finally said to explain his persistent scrounging.

Jon inclines his head a little at Tony's words. The man doesn't exactly make it a habit to admit feeling uncomfortable with anything. Admitting a weakness... He's just not sure if it's the magic itself that makes Tony uncomfortable or the part where it hurts Jon. Though he does place an appreciative hand over the one Tony has placed against his stomach. Not in a restraining way to halt any motion, though, now that they have properly agreed to not watch any children die.

"Tony... I can assure you there is a lot I'm not yet seeing. Which... Which may not be surprising giving the state of this place? I'm not sure if finding a memory of Elias would be of any help either." For a moment, he looks around, not quite sure what to even look for before casting a brief glance up towards the sky above. Would poking that grant either of them any clarity, or would it only hurt...?

Whatever the case, Jon isn't too inclined to find out, so he just sighs. "I... I do appreciate your effort, though. It makes me feel less as if I have to deal with all of this on my own."

Taking his hand usually meant he was supposed to be doing something differently, and it made Tony drop his shoulders deliberately to try to stop this panic spiral that apparently was only made worse by seeing memories of Jon where he wasn't being completely consumed by these horrors. He couldn't see a way to build out of the problem yet, and had to rely on watching Jon closely, ruefully conceding any control of the problem to him until he revealed an angle to Tony. He almost asked who Elias was, that was another one of the thousand names Jon had for him in the code, but followed his gaze up to the giant eye that had caught Tony's attention the moment he walked in. He should have trusted his instincts.

To Jon's very kind words, Tony muttered, "Yeah, of course," still looking up at the ceiling, before he drew his hand away to use it to vault up onto the desk. He did at least stop while he was standing on it, arm raised, to look back down at Jon with a question in his expression, briefly concerned that all he was about to do was poke Jon in the eye, but he still poked.

Maybe at some point Tony will become aware that Jon taking his hand has turned less into a correcting gesture and rather one of appreciation from the Archivist's side. That he doesn't try to push Tony away even if Tony might take his actions and reactions that way. And there is a bout of concern finding its way onto Jon's face at how quiet Tony falls in response.

What follows next, is unexpected. And not something anyone else has yet attempted, replacing concern on the Archivist's with an equal mix of terror and curiosity when Tony hops onto his desk and makes his intention much too clear.

And maybe Jon could stop Tony if he wanted to, but he doesn't. So he has himself to blame as well at the sudden jab of pain that seems to pierce his skull and tears a scream of pain and surprise from him as the room suddenly turns entirely dark.

And remains dark.

And silent.

And after a few moments of perfect quiet and darkness, a voice can be heard. Speaking evenly into the darkness while vague images depict the nightmares described by the voice.

The images aren't entirely clear, and Tony may have heard some of these things before.

Jon's response hadn't been an effort to discourage Tony at all, which it should have been, the asshole, they really had to talk about safe words or something, because Tony's curious hand was flying away from the eye as he watched Jon's face crumple with the pain, and tried to drop down to apologize at the sound of the scream, only to find himself crouching on the desk in the quiet dark.

Silent nothingness, more like, where Tony could hear the catch of his own breath before he tried, "Jon?," searching around his feet for the desk to find the edge of it to get a hand on him where he was supposed to be. The voice did not improve the situation, making Tony hiss rapidly and quietly, trying to whisper under it like he could avoid being detected by it, "Jon? Can you hear me? I'm sorry, I mean, obviously that was going to hurt, that's my fault, are you okay? Jon, I'm sorry. Where are you?" His breath caught again as Tony heard his own voice go too high and wet, making him shudder and try to slide back like he could avoid the strange phantoms in this darkness like he thought he could hide from the voice. One way to make the dark worse was to actually put something in it.

The darkness lasts a little longer than necessary before a single, massive and bright green glowing pupil up at the ceiling casts the room in its eerie glow while focusing on Tony again. None of the smaller eyes makes itself notable, but should Tony spot one despite the comparably dim light, he will find it downcast, dark and bleeding.

Jon sits on the floor next to the table where he has crumbled down, his labored breathing and little whimpers becoming audible as sound returns to the room along with the faint light. He holds himself up with one hand, while the other holds his head, the additional eye this place has put on him left in the same state as the other smaller ones, resulting in a slow trickle of blood down the Archivist's face. Though he doesn't look up from where he sits as he tries to speak to Tony between breaths, not sure if he can either reach him or calm him down.

"...it's just a dream. Just a dream, Tony.... it's a dream... Tony. Just a dream..."

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