Jonathan 'Eyebags' Sims (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beholding_archivist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2020-10-22 01:52 pm
beholding_archivist) wrote in revivalproject2020-10-22 01:52 pm
What do you see?
WHO: Jon & You
WHERE: Temba
WHAT: Energy Storm of FEAR
WHEN: End of October/Beginning of September
WARNINGS: A few vague body horror descriptions
A - Throughout the City
Of course they were greeted by a storm. A storm not only messing with their powers, but also making them see things that have no right to be there. But if the Archivist is accustomed to one thing, then it's his fears manifesting and attempting to kill him.
Fortunately, these are merely illusions. Projections of actual terrors Jon has already encountered in his life. And while he still fears them, he knows way too well that these projections aren't real. It's this understanding that lets him move past their mocking faces and threatening stances with a stubborn scowl as he searches the city for those actually trapped by their own fears.
"I am very proud of you." The ever present specter of a tall man in an expensive suit croons with satisfaction in his tone and the way he has his hands flawlessly clasped behind his back as he follows along. A tall mannequin dressed as a ringmaster follows close to him along with a woman wearing the remains of a red dress, her body honeycombed with holes of varying sizes out of which a seemingly endless stream of worms pours down to the ground, resulting in a squirmy trail left in her wake. But those are but the first three of the Archivist's little entourage of terrors that every once in a while passes a seemingly stray yellow door. There is also that short woman that seems to be melting. The massive monstrosity of a man who barely holds the shape of a person. The two identical deliverymen. The old man and the young woman who easily look like murderous maniacs. That strangely stretched-out being whose long limbs may or may not actually be able to appear like a person. And at the very end that perfectly normal looking woman with the focused look on her face and the knife at her hip.
"Hello?" Jon calls out as he reaches the next building and looks inside, his following lingering nearby and muttering a variety of taunts Jon stubbornly refuses to hear. "Is anyone in there? Do you need help? I- I believe I can help!"
B - He Row Soup Lies Building
"... Right." Jon mutters with an exhale as he tosses another stuffed thing aside and pulls out the blanket underneath to hand it to the nearest person. "At least we're remotely safe in here." Safe, of course, being relative, considering their overall situation. "And I can say that the library is putting up well enough with this storm." And yet that building can hardly be considered a shelter.
Jon turns around from where he has been going through some of the boxes, leaning on the table with one hand and its restlessly tapping index finger as he addresses no one in particular. "Does anyone even recall how long these storms last?" There is a plethora of further questions Jon has already lined up to ask, but knowing that there likely aren't going to be any answers is nothing but frustrating.
It's the way the tone of his own tapping finger changes slightly that has Jon look down at his own hand and frown at what he is seeing. Rather than tapping on wood, he is now tapping the cover of a book. And it's reading the book's title that makes him freeze, seize the book that has no business feeling this solid in his grip and angrily hurl it out into the storm before the idea of actually opening it can even cross his mind. "No!"
WHERE: Temba
WHAT: Energy Storm of FEAR
WHEN: End of October/Beginning of September
WARNINGS: A few vague body horror descriptions
A - Throughout the City
Fortunately, these are merely illusions. Projections of actual terrors Jon has already encountered in his life. And while he still fears them, he knows way too well that these projections aren't real. It's this understanding that lets him move past their mocking faces and threatening stances with a stubborn scowl as he searches the city for those actually trapped by their own fears.
"I am very proud of you." The ever present specter of a tall man in an expensive suit croons with satisfaction in his tone and the way he has his hands flawlessly clasped behind his back as he follows along. A tall mannequin dressed as a ringmaster follows close to him along with a woman wearing the remains of a red dress, her body honeycombed with holes of varying sizes out of which a seemingly endless stream of worms pours down to the ground, resulting in a squirmy trail left in her wake. But those are but the first three of the Archivist's little entourage of terrors that every once in a while passes a seemingly stray yellow door. There is also that short woman that seems to be melting. The massive monstrosity of a man who barely holds the shape of a person. The two identical deliverymen. The old man and the young woman who easily look like murderous maniacs. That strangely stretched-out being whose long limbs may or may not actually be able to appear like a person. And at the very end that perfectly normal looking woman with the focused look on her face and the knife at her hip.
"Hello?" Jon calls out as he reaches the next building and looks inside, his following lingering nearby and muttering a variety of taunts Jon stubbornly refuses to hear. "Is anyone in there? Do you need help? I- I believe I can help!"
B - He Row Soup Lies Building
Jon turns around from where he has been going through some of the boxes, leaning on the table with one hand and its restlessly tapping index finger as he addresses no one in particular. "Does anyone even recall how long these storms last?" There is a plethora of further questions Jon has already lined up to ask, but knowing that there likely aren't going to be any answers is nothing but frustrating.
It's the way the tone of his own tapping finger changes slightly that has Jon look down at his own hand and frown at what he is seeing. Rather than tapping on wood, he is now tapping the cover of a book. And it's reading the book's title that makes him freeze, seize the book that has no business feeling this solid in his grip and angrily hurl it out into the storm before the idea of actually opening it can even cross his mind. "No!"
no subject
But one thing at a time. He nods with a sigh. "I... I said it's complicated. They were all... Fears. In a way. The avatars of said fears, to be precise. And- These fears, these... Entities. They are beings that exist outside of reality itself and feed on the deep fears of all living beings. And while it's a bad allegory, think of them as evil gods, if you like? And these avatars are their followers. The Stranger, for example, being the fear of the unknown, the uncanny, the unfamiliar. The creeping sense that something isn’t right. Its present avatars were the two deliverymen Breekon & Hope, Nikola Orsinov, who was once a clown, then let himself be turned into a mannequin, the one wearing the ringmaster uniform. Then there is the NotThem... Basically a changeling. Dreadful thing. That was the, ah- The really stretched out one."
Jon pauses there, folding his hands in front of him and taking a deep breath before going on. "And most of those creatures, these avatars you just saw... Tried to kill me. They're responsible for all these scars you see." He unfolds his hands to use the one marked by a big burn scar to gesture at the scar across his neck and the patches of pockmark-like scars littering his face. "There are a few more covered one. And Jared took two of my ribs." Another pause, and a sigh. "They usually aren't as amiable as these illusions, but I suppose that's because as long as they act hostile towards me, I can still pretend I have not yet fully turned into a monster myself yet. So before you ask: Yes. I'm an avatar myself. I am the Archivist, avatar of the Eye. The fear of being followed, watched and having your darkest secrets known. I can sense... See peoples' fears."
Is this a lot? Yes, this is a lot and Jon is perfectly aware of it, so he turns back around to use the by now boiling water to start preparing some tea.
no subject
Echo's full attention latches onto Jon's winding explanations of who these Fears are and what they represent, his brow furrowing with every name brought up. But he leans back a bit when he gets into the more violent encounters he's had with the few left on the list, eyes widening once the Archivist drops the small, metaphorical bombshell of a tie to all of these avatars.
There really isn't much to say when one has to process all of it in its accompanying silence, but the clone has a viable comment once he finds his voice again. "No wonder you're used to this. You've already gone through an experience ten times worse than this..."
Although it begs another question, somewhat related to what has been already answered. "What do you mean by 'pretend?' How long have you been like this?"
no subject
Jon leaves the tea to sit after listening up at Echo's question. "Hm... Two years now. Give or take a few months. I don't... I don't really know the exact date the... Change started. According to my boss it's a choice I made through my actions, but..." He shrugs. "I had no idea these things even existed until it was too late. And right now I... I only hope I can remain as human as possible for as long as I can. I have no idea what I will eventually turn into. As it is I already can't simply die anymore. I heal faster than I can cut off any of my fingers, I hardly sleep and food..." He gives a short, dry laugh and starts filling two mugs with the tea. "I feed on other peoples' fears. And I don't like that. It- It's dreadful. But at the same time it feels... Right."
Picking up the two mugs, Jon then walks over to where Echo is sitting and kneels down next to the clone to offer one of the hot beverages to him. "And I'm not going to make this a competition, but I only deal with supernatural entities, you fight in an intergalactic war, doing your best in the face of actual horrors. To me that's far more terrifying than being chased by hideous monsters. What awaits you out there is far more horrid than my collection of insubstantial terrors. I will look for Cal- And anyone else who might be out there. As I said: I can sense a person's fear." Like an animal tracking down a food source.
no subject
Two years, however, is both a short and a long expanse of time. And to see Jon acknowledge the foray into a type of immortality the way he does is...rather unnerving.
Fortunately, the degree of nonchalance the Archivist exudes steers it into a more matter-of-fact issue lower on the short list of priorities they have right now. "Horrors on a spectrum, maybe," he says, accepting the mug offered, since these fears sound challenging on another level. A steady sip is followed by a nod. "Again, thanks for helping me out. We'll be able to cover more ground this way."