Hidden Breath Beneath The Floor

Open for Play
The Six Kingdom's most prestigious university and the de facto cultural capital of Anaxas.

The Stacks | Ghost Town | Muffey

User avatar
Lars
Posts: 447
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 44
Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Contact:

Tue Feb 19, 2019 9:30 pm

Laboratory Beta
Dentis 28, 2718 ✽ Evening
Image
His eventful night in Laboratory Beta had seen itself to just the opposite once he awoke, half-draped over the sofa and half falling off onto the floor, his right arm and leg reaching for the ground in his sleep as if the comfort of the broken-in sofa had been too much for him. Lars had slept peacefully for perhaps the first time in forever; unburdened by the silence that the mysterious laboratory provided, comforted by the relative safety of Professor Moore's presence nearby. Indeed when he awoke to the sounds of the galdor stirring and leaving for his class the passive had felt fear rise within him again; nervous, somehow, that the man might not return. His mind sure loved to lead him into mental diablerie, mixing his thoughts with his emotions and leaving him with a strange and very new paranoia.

Lars had never feared the world like this before. He'd never felt anything other than relief when a galdor left the room, either, but the past few days had changed his perception of all things. Where could he be safe but with the professor, when galdori and passives alike despised him? He knew that his solitary day in the laboratory would likely be just as uneventful as his sleep, no one would be around to bother him and perhaps he'd have a chance to collect his thoughts, but still it made him nervous to watch Harper leave.

Professor Moore - first names were for equals.

In the back of his mind he was aware that everything would be alright, that the day would pass and the professor would return to take him away. It settled his nerves, if only for a moment, and Lars was content to rest against the sofa in silence.

Then a woman arrived.

Younger than himself, he could tell by her fresh face, with hair as red as any pure Anaxi and freckles just to add. It was clear from her easy access to the laboratory that she wasn't just some student sneaking around and getting into things she wasn't meant to; she must've been an assistant, or perhaps the youngest professor he'd ever seen. Either way, she was unexpected and her appearance was a shock to the passive, who quickly did what he did best and disappeared into the shadows of the laboratory. Lars wasn't a master of many things, but disappearing into thin air was certainly one of them - to be invisible was simply a part of his life, one he'd perfected many years ago.

He had been such a sight before. Such a bright and dazzling child dressed in silks and satin and everything overpriced that most couldn't dream of acquiring. Now, well... now he was nothing but dust on the floor - or more literally, a passive behind any door, counter, or desk someone might approach.

Staying unnoticed was about as hard as hiding in the first place, which is to say, he did quite well staying out of the unknown woman's path.

At some point the door opened again, dragging not only the woman's gaze to the person it revealed, but Lars' steely blues as well; peering through darkness and resting upon the face of the one he wished most to avoid. It set his heart in stone to see the boy walk across that short stretch of ground that he'd fallen upon only the night before, as if he had any right to stand on the same ground as the professor had stood. As if he had any right to waltz right in and ask questions - what did he want, to see if he'd truly gotten the job done? If he'd finished him off like Ayden so clearly wanted?

The little attempted comforts given by the younger passive were quickly forgotten; the gentle touches to his bloody face, soft kiss to his skin, it was all overwhelmed with the pain.

Lars was distracted as the two spoke; uncaring for their words and whatever meaning they attached to them. The tension between them was obvious but he couldn't say he had expected them to be related - if that's what they were, he'd zoned out - and it didn't soften his opinion for either one of them.

It wasn't until his roommate had retreated that Lars decided to move.

"What are you crying for?" his soft voice came from behind, the blonde having seated himself on the sofa, legs crossed and hand resting protectively over his ribs, "he's just as rude to everyone else, it's probably not so personal."

Tags:
User avatar
Maximus
Posts: 36
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:09 am
Topics: 8
Race: Writer
Location: Ireland
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Wed Feb 20, 2019 6:20 pm

Dentis 28, 2718 | Evening
Laboratory Beta
.
Image
Now that the tears had started, she didn't think that she could stop them. Niamh wasn't sure that she wanted to stop them. The salt water trickled down her cheeks, swam in her hazel gaze, which had taken on a greater green in her pain.

Her Fionn.

Her Fionn had recognised her and spat that bile at her all the same. She'd seen his agony in that recognition and on some dim level, she could understand why. How did it seem to him? Like she'd abandoned him? Like she'd never cared? Had he given up all hope of ever seeing her again, or thought that if he did that she'd... what? Turn her nose up at him?

Her brother had never received that treatment from her, she'd stuck by him until his final day... although she'd been useless then, hadn't she? They'd dragged him off to Brunnhold and she had cowered and sobbed while her parents screamed at each other. He'd been a baby then, a poor unloved little thing, unfairly unloved although she'd tried to make up for her parents' neglect of him. Too little, too late. He was still in there. He might have tried to bury it and that outside shell had hardened even further but she'd seen the softness in him, that vulnerable centre that had come out when he'd asked about his friend.

But it had all closed in when she'd tried to reach out to him. He'd snapped shut, bringing the armour back but she knew that behaviour all too well. The nastiest words he could muster to shock her back and stop her from following. The words had definitely grown nastier since he was a child, certainly enough to shock. It had been enough to send the tears leaking out soundlessly, a small gasp coming from her as she'd stepped back but she hadn't followed which was what he'd wanted.

Did he hate her? Did he still love her? Honestly, she didn't know which was worse. Was there still time to go after him? Work out which direction he'd gone in, it wasn't like he had a lot of choice in terms of escape routes.

She spun on the spot, indecisive and almost fell out of her own skin.

A blond man had appeared on the laboratory sofa, pretty, a tad androgynous, suddenly very there when he definitely hadn't been there before. She'd been facing the door, he hadn't come in that way, not even when she'd started crying so he'd been here all along.

What the fuck?

He must have been here all along and those clothes he was wearing, she'd tidied up similar, spotted similar ones on a different body. They were Harper's clothes. Who was this blond man wearing her dearest's clothing?

"Who- How- What?" she spluttered out, hands flying to her mouth, fluttering at her throat, moving to smooth down her uniform but twisting in the skirt instead. The words were something to cling to though, something to ground her and yet draw her attention away from the quite obvious kenser in the room.

"You know him? Fionn? It is- It's him, isn't it? Of course, it- I know it is," she spluttered out, searching in her pocket for a handkerchief and not finding one. Damn if she was going to dab her eyes on her sleeve or something in front of this stranger, who she didn't have an inkling about. So she went searching for one in Harper's belongings, aware where he normally kept such things and yet struggling to remember right now.

As she searched, she considered. Who else would be in the lab after all aside from the professors or herself or one of the other students? She knew the students who hung around, the only strangers to her those passives that came in for-

Her hazel gaze whipped up to stare.

Passive. Passive?

She padded closer to him, encountering the lack of field, finding herself dabbing at her cheeks unthinkingly with her sleeve, as she considered him.

"I- Are you... are you L-L-Lars? Who he was looking for? You know him?" she asked in a whisper, rocking back gently on her heels. "I'm sorry. H-h-he's worse now. They m-m-made him worse!" she wailed, the tears increasing in intensity, hand fanning at her face in a vain attempt to stem the flow as she went looking for the handkerchief again. Heart breaking as she tried to be practical here and failing.
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 447
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 44
Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Contact:

Wed Feb 20, 2019 7:00 pm

Laboratory Beta
Dentis 28, 2718 ✽ Evening
Image
The young girl's tears didn't sway him as she turned around and appeared to almost jump out of her body at his presence. He wasn't easily brought to sympathy with tears; he'd seen them so often in the faces of his peers that they hardly had any effect on him at all at this point, and this girl certainly dragged no such compassionate feelings from within him.

Lars' stare was unwavering as the galdor fumbled with her hands, twisting them into her skirt and starting to search for something.

"Of course he knows him," the passive replied in a murmur, hardly caring to be heard as the girl occupied herself with looking through belongings and trying to find something - a handkerchief maybe? He tilted his head to the side, watching her with the slightest of curiosities as she attempted to ground herself in the situation somehow. Fionn had had quite the effect on her.

He couldn't really blame her. Fionn had a way with words, truly, and he had come to find that expecting anything other than bitterness from his mouth was foolish and naive. Lars shifted slightly away as the woman drew closer, presumably trying to figure him out and feel for any field, but he didn't like it, didn't want her coming any closer than she was.

She rocked back and forth for just a moment before returning to her search, and Lars let his gaze leave her form, glancing instead to watch the door, "yes, his name is Lars. Fionn's roommate. You are his..."

His hand left his ribcage, sliding down his thigh and coming to rest upon his knee, "sister?"

Faraway blue eyes flicked back over, inspecting the girl as if momentarily sizing her up. She likely wasn't as rough-and-tumble as her brother, no galdor ever had the need to be. Still he was reluctant to put any trust in her, and he would be relieved when the professor returned to take him away from the university.

His other hand fumbled with his collar, fingertips smoothing against the fabric and only slightly revealing a heavily bruised collarbone, "no, I don't think he's made any effort to get better either. I wouldn't place all the blame on your lovely university."

He had to bite his tongue. The hand on his knee came up to slip into his pocket, fumbling with the professor's handkerchief that rested inside, watching as Fionn's sister searched.

"Though I doubt placing the blame on anyone in particular will magically make Fionn happy and good. So - that was your first time seeing each other since he got here? Even though you're a student?" questioned the passive, "I suppose that's not strange. My family never cared to see me again either."
User avatar
Maximus
Posts: 36
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:09 am
Topics: 8
Race: Writer
Location: Ireland
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Thu Feb 21, 2019 7:37 am

Dentis 28, 2718 | Evening
Laboratory Beta
.
Image
A scattered mess, that's what she was. A scattered blubbering mess, searching for a handkerchief in all the wrong places. She hadn't approached Lars purely to check if he had a field or not but she thought that she'd seen some hankies in the vicinity of the sofa. Harper put things in odd places and she thought that he slept on the sofa sometimes so... perhaps he was prone to coughing fits or something during the night. How on Vita was she to guess why a man, or anyone else for that matter, might want a handkerchief at night? It was strange perhaps but she put it down to some eccentricity of the professor. Niamh didn't particularly want to go rooting through his clothing, as oddly tempting as it was because well, Harper might notice. Although this passive clearly hadn't any qualms with rifling through things albeit he'd likely had permission. She couldn't be certain though, he was definitely a bold one. If she just quickly darted into his things...

"Sorry about that, Lars, it-it's nice to meet you, I just wasn't- you surprised me," Niamh explained needlessly, as if her shock hadn't been self-evident. She was trembling on her feet but she wasn't sure if that was a result of her encounter with Fionn, Lars or a combination of the two. She needed sugar or something. The handkerchief would have to wait, even though she knew that her nose was running. Disgusting, honestly but...

"I'm going to make some tea, do you want some tea?"

The redhead hovered uncertainly, anxious about whether or not she should make an assumption or await a response. Her thumb found its way to her mouth, the section beside the nail finding its way between her teeth. She worried at it for a few moments before she realised what she was doing, dropping it swiftly and clasping her hands together so that she wouldn't do it again inadvertently.

She went to sort out the tea things. She'd just make enough for him in case he wanted it.

"So you're his roommate, I- Yes, I'm his sister but..." she trailed off, chewing her lip, mind bursting with questions but her heart ached at the mere thought of asking them. How could she ask this stranger what her brother had been like in her absence? How he'd developed since she'd effectively abandoned him. She had an idea of the answer, didn't she? She'd seen some of it for herself and Lars' tone... well, it spoke volumes, didn't it? His tone could hardly be described as 'fond'. The talk of blame caused her obvious discomfort, the idea that this was somehow Fionn's fault irking her.

But when he made the implication that she hadn't wanted to see her brother, perhaps putting blame on her shoulders too - although that wasn't necessarily wrong - the student gasped, teacup slipping from between suddenly lifeless fingers to break on the floor. She flinched.

"Shit!" she gasped out, hand flying to her mouth too late to keep the expletive inside, hands shaking more now, the young woman clearly flustered as she all but collapsed to her knees to sort out her mess.

"I didn't just- Of c-c-course I wanted to see him. I g-g-got in so much trouble f-f-for asking about h-h-him and I was t-t-told not to look for him and I-I-I did what I was told and th-th-then time had p-p-p-passed and I was scared to-" she choked out, the tears intensifying.

She waved in the direction of the door that her brother had disappeared through with a slam. "I was r-r-right to be scared. He doesn't want me but h-h-he probably thinks th-th-that I never cared."

She shook her head, regrets bubbling beneath the surface, gaze unfocused as she gazed down at the teacup that she'd so stupidly broken. Idiot, klutz, useless-

Niamh buried her face in her hands, letting out a short scream of frustration. She sniffled loudly, seeming to make a conscious effort to try to pull herself together as she picked up broken pieces - it had broken into large pieces thankfully.

"I should h-h-have followed h-h-him but I'm a useless idiot. I'm sorry th-th-that your family are useless too."

She set the broken teacup pieces on the nearby desk, sniffling again. Clocking hell, she really needed a handkerchief. She was going to have to dart into Harper's stuff after all...

"All gollies are useless. Well... not Professors Moore and Devlin. They're trying. I'm just..." she trailed off with an expression of misery pinching her blotchy features.
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 447
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 44
Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Contact:

Thu Feb 21, 2019 11:45 pm

Laboratory Beta
Dentis 28, 2718 ✽ Evening
Image
Lars continued to fiddle with the shirt's collar as he observed the young woman, finally giving up on her search for the moment and taking to trembling in place instead. He supposed Fionn had had even more of an effect on her than he'd first thought. Well, he would have to keep that in mind - her brother was obviously something she cared tremendously about.

He didn't respond quickly to the matter of tea; watching her through slightly-narrowed eyes for another few moments before shaking his head and answering softly, "no, he's fine without it."

The hasty and uncaring switching of pronouns in their encounter was perhaps more of an oddity than the use of third-person at all; the man swapping here and there as he spoke and not seeming to notice either way what came out of his mouth. The passive was hardly concerned with his speech when he had so many other things to think about.

It wasn't until the girl had dropped her teacup that Lars moved, ignoring the irritation that had risen within him at the sudden, harsh noise, pushing it down in favor of approaching to help her clean it up. It was a force of habit; he had grown so accustomed to cleaning things up during his time at the university that he couldn't have stood by if he'd tried. He leaned down, grabbing at a few broken pieces, eyes flicking to the girl's face now that they were eye-level with each other. Her tears continued, worsened now by her clumsy little mistake.

"He doesn't think Fionn was in any state to be nice, anyway. He doubts it was purely because of you," the older man offered, ignoring the girl's frustrated screaming into her hands, "your brother has a sharp tongue towards anyone."

Standing up, Lars set the pieces he'd collected onto the desk alongside those the girl had gathered, glancing briefly to the door as he considered her words. It was true, he could agree that a lot of galdori were rather useless in regards to his kind... but it wasn't exactly their responsibility to be anything else. It wasn't galdorkind being oppressed and enslaved, it wasn't them being abused and forced into awful conditions and made into truly passive beings. They couldn't possibly understand. They never could. None of them. Even Professor Moore, in all his kindness and compassion for passives as a whole, couldn't begin to truly understand what it felt like being passive.

Unwanted.

Finally, steel-blue eyes darted back over to Fionn's sister, Lars standing only a foot away from her now and not caring to return to the sofa. A bony hand slipped into his pocket, reluctantly pulling Professor Moore's handkerchief from within, "it's not just your kind - everyone is useless. Galdori families, make-shift passive families... it's all just lies," Lars hesitantly reached towards the distraught student, soft in his touch as he used the cloth to gently wipe her tears. Afterwards he offered the handkerchief out for her to take.

"Passives just find out the lies a bit sooner. I'm sure Fionn doesn't think it's that you don't care - he probably thinks none of you do. And, well, I'm inclined to think the same, for the most part. No one really cares unless they're the ones being abused. Have you ever been abused?"

For a moment, distant eyes were focused, staring blankly at the girl.

"Your brother's like a frightened animal. You can't just bombard him and expect him not to attack, you have to go slow. Gain his trust, because right now he's got none. He might be monstrous, but he's not a monster."

You know what he is.

No, he knows what he's seen of him; not what he is.

It's our funeral.

Lars let out a deep breath through his nose, the man going to lean against the desk while a hand absentmindedly went to his ribs again, "what's your name?"
User avatar
Maximus
Posts: 36
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:09 am
Topics: 8
Race: Writer
Location: Ireland
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Fri Feb 22, 2019 6:40 pm

Dentis 28, 2718 | Evening
Laboratory Beta
.
Image
For all her upset, Niamh was glad to have Lars' assistance, even if it was largely unnecessary. She was more than capable of picking up the remains of a teacup - at least under normal circumstances - but it was nice to have the boy near at hand. The girl found the nearness comforting, a sense of companionship existing between the two of them in her mind, even if the other was probably only helping out of reflex. The student wasn't thinking about things like that, as if he had been compelled rather than choosing to be kind and helpful. The young woman was inclined to see him in a positive light even if his words thus far had been a bit short. He seemed to have changed his tune now a little bit, speaking about her brother perhaps a little different than he had before. Still some edge, some negativity where Fionn was concerned but perhaps less hostility now. Maybe she just wanted to hear less hostility, the same way she chose not to hear the pronouns he used and how they changed. It wasn't like she hadn't dealt with passives before who disassociated in far more extreme ways. His way of talking... it wasn't new to her.

It took her a many moments to gather herself, the girl more broken than the cup she'd just cleaned up. It was difficult to respond to his comment about Fionn, about his sharp tongue, when she was trying to focus on not letting her nose run into her mouth, all of the fluids she was exuding desperate to mingle. Hence, when Lars offered her a handkerchief, her gratefulness was palpable. The initial dabbing caught her off guard but when he actually handed the piece of fabric over to her, she almost welled up anew, blowing her nose softly and swiftly before offering him a shining smile in return.

Another person might have thought about how he must have had that handkerchief all this time, known he had it, and not offered it when it was clear that one was needed and sought. She didn't think of the negatives involved, or what hadn't occurred a few minutes before but simply focused on the kindness of the present gesture.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I'm just- never mind. You're sure that you don't want tea?" she confirmed, biting her lip as she considered how to respond to that frankly cynical remark about families. Maybe he wasn't wrong but... how was she meant to reply? Slowly and carefully, she supposed.

"Fionn is... well, he always had a sharp tongue, particularly when he was hurting which... was most of the time although I was late to realise it," the redhead admitted, corners of her mouth pulled down, trying to force herself to concentrate on the act of tea preparation, doing her best to avoid dropping or spilling anything this time. She poured out the brewed mixture, ladling in sugar, more than usual because of the shock to her nerves and stirring it thoroughly, finding something soothing in the repetitive action. Round and round went the spoon, lulling her with its almost hypnotic motion.

"Families are... difficult, I think. You have people stuck together in a situation that just sort of... happened. If a marriage isn't arranged then maybe two people started off willingly connected and not hating each other but... they have children, the children never asked to be born, they never asked to have siblings, especially as some of them can be horrible, passive-hating- anyway, complicated," she finished in a puff of exhaled breath, not even the stirring of the tea enough to soothe her as she allowed her mind to run rampant based on Lars' words. Melancholy wasn't really her thing but... she could think sometimes.

"Entire families probably don't work but... that doesn't mean that parts of them don't and no, I've never been abused, either physically or mentally."

Enough of the latter had happened to Fionn at home but physical abuse? The way Lars said it made her wonder how much of it went on here. You heard about it of course, assaults and the like, but it was unsubstantiated rumour, right? She did wonder though. Belatedly, she remembered the wrapping she'd seen around her brother's knuckles. The result of hitting someone perhaps? She hoped not. But Lars had been nursing his ribs, hadn't he? Fionn had been worried about something, worried about something for which he felt he was to blame. Was that it? What there... something more to this?

Niamh didn't want to ask. Honestly, she dreaded what the response might be.

The redhead bit her lip, really not wanting to ask, afraid to discover the answer but knowing that she couldn't put it off indefinitely.

"I know or... I should do. It's not the first time that I've had to... do this but... you obviously know him well, you can read him," she remarked with the ghost of a smile although it saddened. "I thought I could but... I don't know him anymore so... what do I know? But how could I? He's been here dealing with goodness knows what and I've- Please don't say he's monstrous, please!"

Her voice broke, the threat of tears imminent again as she reached for her teacup, intent on pouring scalding liquid down her gullet by way of a distraction.

"I think the servants at home thought he was a bad kid, you know? And I can understand it, I can because he definitely had that... streak but... he was sweet under it all, you know? Sullen, angry, misguided - clock the Circle did he do the stupidest things for what he thought were the right reasons - but he wasn't... bad, not like... evil. Not a monster."

The handkerchief was being employed again, dabbing at moisture on her face now that the teacup had been set aside, shaking fingers twisting the cloth she held. "He took to stealing things - I doubt he's kept the habit - and it wasn't necessarily because he wanted them. It could be such... random things. He stole spoons, matches, shoes, all sorts of things, no rhyme or reason to it but... I remember he stole a little pendant of my mother's. I'd come home from Brunnhold so he stole it to give to me because she wouldn't even notice that it was gone and he w-w-wanted to be able to give me something n-n-nice to say thank you because I'd actually notice-"

She broke off with a gasp, dragging the handkerchief across her face before she attempted to inhale the tea she was trying to drink it so rapidly, forcing herself to blurt the dreaded question out before she had second thoughts again. Before she could think better of it.

Deep breaths, steel herself, gather her field in so that what might leak out would be... harder to pick up on, less distressing for Lars if she had a highly negative reaction.

"You've b-b-been holding your ribs so y-y-you're obviously hurt but... Fionn's worried about you - really worried - and about s-something that brought you here. Your r-ribs... are you hurt? Is he... is he involved?" she asked from between almost bloodless lips before something more rational took over, rational, administrative.

"If you're hurt though, I could take a look and see if there's anything I can do."
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 447
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 44
Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Contact:

Sun Feb 24, 2019 8:24 pm

Laboratory Beta
Dentis 28, 2718 ✽ Evening
Image
Such a wordy girl she was turning out to be. Lars responded to the repeated matter of tea in only the shaking of his head, his eyes flicking away from the young woman as she proceeded to prepare her own. While it was true that the passive liked tea, and had enjoyed his shared drink with the professor only the night before, he wasn't quite as inclined to share one with Fionn's sister.

She spoke of him as if he'd asked his life story - maybe if he had only bonded with him more, had looked past the derogatory comments and constant threat of verbal warfare then he would've felt more compelled to listen. Alas, Lars wasn't so sure he felt any sympathy for his troubled roommate. Even with his sister's explanations and mentions of his rough childhood, the passive found it difficult to truly empathize with the boy - he couldn't just drop his every opinion when everything the boy had done had just proved him a terror.

Degrading him, threatening him, insulting him, beating him within an inch of life, what the fuck did anyone expect him to think? He might not have killed him, but he killed any empathy he had ever possessed.

The blonde tilted his head slightly, still leaning against the professor's desk as the girl spoke of families and how she disagreed with his statement. He supposed she could believe what she liked; he had never seen a family without detrimental flaws and found it hard to believe that any sort of family ever worked out. All the families he'd seen were far too quick to give up their children or disown them for going against their predetermined paths.

Even his own family. Lars perhaps hadn't seen the extent of the lies before his gating, but he could see it all so clearly now.

As Fionn's sister continued to speak, downing her tea as she went, Lars pushed away from the desk, slipping around it to instead seat himself in the professor's chair. Leaning back, his eyes were redirected towards the girl, but the passive didn't appear all that enthused with what she was saying. It wasn't until she addressed another matter - that of his injured ribs and Fionn's involvement in the matter - that the passive opened his mouth again.

"No, I don't believe I need your help. Your dear brother was quite involved; if it wasn't for Professor Moore he would have killed me."

His tone was rather flat for such an accusation, and his gaze flicked back to the door.

"Fionn beat me, the same as he beats various other passives both because our patron wants him to and because he wants to. You tell me not to call him monstrous as if you know what the hell he is anymore," Lars stood abruptly, the chair pushing behind him with a loud noise, "as if you've got any right to tell me how to speak."

The older man stepped out from the desk, standing still for a moment as if considering leaving or staying to continue the conversation. After a moment's debate, Lars bit the inside of his cheek, features softening.

"He's sorry. He didn't mean to... speak out of line," he offered in a softer tone, the passive retreating back to the sofa to sit down, "this is a hard time for you, he knows, and it's no good for him to be emotional. He's sorry, he is, that was quite rude of him to say to you. Can he make it up to you? He can answer any questions you might have? Or if you'd prefer it, he can leave you alone."
User avatar
Maximus
Posts: 36
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:09 am
Topics: 8
Race: Writer
Location: Ireland
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Mon Feb 25, 2019 5:06 am

Dentis 28, 2718 | Evening
Laboratory Beta
.
Image
The student had made tea for more than one person and it wasn't likely to go to waste. Niamh practically inhaled one cup, not minding the heat and glad for the sugars. In her current state, she needed the hit because she was shaking like a leaf and felt as if her legs might give out. Leaning against Moore's desk was a must if she wasn't to end up on the floor.

She'd just poured a second cup of tea when Lars came out with his revelation, the girl busy dabbing at her cheeks thankfully or they might have been down another teacup. Her hazel eyes swivelled to the passive, staring, certain that she couldn't have heard him right even as all the colour drained from her face.

K-k-killed?

Fionn?

Her Fionn could have k-k-k-k-k-

"N-n-n-no, he can't have. Not k-k-k-k- The Professor couldn't- If it was that b-b-b-bad-" Niamh stuttered out, her mind reeling at the implications.

But he'd been worried!

Gods! Had he been checking up on his handiwork?

The young woman was shaking more now, whole body a-tremble, teacup actually rattling softly in its saucer from the vibrations; the whole desk was shaking with it.

There were details coming back to her, agonising details, undeniable details. Bandaged hands, the tension, the way he spoke.

"I know what I did."

"C-C-Circle s-s-s-save me!" she wailed, face ending up in her hands, a wordless keening sound escaping even as she tried to squeeze the memories out of her head. He'd been guilty, yes. He'd known what he'd done, there'd been remorse there, hadn't there? He'd seemed genuinely terrified about what had happened to Lars but... had he really been worried about the other passive or had he been worried about consequences?

And even if he was remorseful, he'd still done it. Beaten someone so badly that he'd almost killed- It couldn't be true! He didn't have that in him! It couldn't be true!

But he wasn't her Fionn anymore and even then he'd been so full of anger and hatred and-

"Oh gods! W-w-why are you- wh-what have you g-g-got to be s-s-sorry for?" she asked the other, utterly bewildered. How cowed was he that he thought he was at fault for saying something true? That dead way he'd levelled the accusation, a voice and words to go with it that she was never going to get out of her head as long as she lived.

The way Fionn had approached her initially, aggressive swagger as if he had no reason to fear anyone physically. It was because he was someone to be feared, she realised. He wasn't used to the tables being turned.

And Lars was worried about being rude.

She slid from the edge of the desk, edge scraping painfully against her spine, leaving a blazing trail of fiery pain behind it as she slid to the floor, limbs akimbo, skirt in disorder. But she was beyond caring. The pain, the total lack of modesty, anything to do with her suddenly boneless feeling body.

Fionn and Lars and Lars and Fionn. Fionn, sweet Lady, what had he done? What had be become?

"You said he w-w-wasn't a monster. H-h-how can you- If he almost k-k-killed you-"

"I know what I did but I thought-"

What had he thought? What on Vita had he thought? What could justify almost killing someone?

The galdor woman was well past simply being distraught. She couldn't comprehend her own thoughts, her field pulsing with horror and despair and chaos. Her emotions bled from her and she was honestly too shocked to cry. Ask him questions? Niamh didn't even know who she was!

Her hands found the back of her knees, grasping and tugging so that she ended up with them against her chest, hugging them. Her skirt had rode well up, a shocking expanse of thigh on display. It was the sort of thing that would ordinarily have been utterly mortifying to her. Under normal circumstances, she might have been dying inwardly at the idea that Professor Moore would enter and find her in such a state but right now, she didn't care at all.

"He w-w-was worried about y-y-you. He c-can't be that b-b-bad. Is... i-i-is he that bad?" she asked Lars mournfully.
User avatar
Lars
Posts: 447
Joined: Sun Nov 25, 2018 1:04 pm
Topics: 44
Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Contact:

Mon Feb 25, 2019 7:40 pm

Laboratory Beta
Dentis 28, 2718 ✽ Evening
Image
Somehow the girl's strong reaction was unexpected; Lars taking a breath as he observed her from the sofa and considering her words. It was strange to him how she both believed him immediately and denied the truth all the same; so clearly clinging to whatever hopes she'd had in her younger brother and wishing his accusations false. Still, she wouldn't be having such a strong and emotional reaction to them if she had any doubt in her mind - it was all just strange and new to him, how anyone could have blind hope in another person just because they were your sibling. Something he would never understand in his lack of brothers and sisters, he imagined, and decided not to dwell on it.

The only people he had grown up with like that were his parents and his personal butler, Aldiron, and none of the three had ever had such concern for him as this girl did for Fionn.

It made a part of him bitter; that soured, jealous aspect of himself that typically had no issue in burying itself, but lately it had been harder than ever to keep it under control.

He glanced up from the floor again when he heard the girl sliding down against the desk, her body slipping down to the floor without a care for modesty or self-composure. He couldn't blame her really, and he supposed he was one that no one had to worry about modesty with - even if he had any interest in the girl before him, he wasn't allowed such thoughts anyway - and so the passive easily ignored what the girl might've otherwise considered indecency.

"Because he knows it wasn't... entirely him," admitted Lars, leaning back against the sofa and crossing his legs, "he was the one beating him, but as much distaste as he has for him I don't think he wants him... dead. H doesn't think Fionn knew he was that close to dying."

Lars cleared his throat uncomfortably, "not that it makes it any better. Your brother made his frustration with him clear even before last night. He knows he's... difficult, sometimes, and he is hard to understand and weird and - and rather bothersome, but he doesn't think he deserves to die. Not at the hands of your brother."

The blonde was lost in thought for just a moment, steely gaze locked on the floor, before he stood from the sofa again and approached the distressed young woman. Lars took a breath, steeling himself before joining her on the floor. Hesitantly, he reached out at first to fix her skirt, wanting to protect her modesty - not that it mattered at the moment - and then wrapping both arms around her shoulders in what he hoped would be a comforting embrace.

"But that's not your fault," he offered softly, "you said it yourself, you couldn't help him. He's his own person and makes his own choices, it's no fault of yours if he makes a bad one."
User avatar
Maximus
Posts: 36
Joined: Wed Jul 04, 2018 7:09 am
Topics: 8
Race: Writer
Location: Ireland
Writer Profile: Writer Profile
Post Templates: Post Templates
Contact:

Thu Feb 28, 2019 11:10 am

Dentis 28, 2718 | Evening
Laboratory Beta
.
Image
To say that Niamh was having a hard time coping didn't even begin to cover how poorly she was doing. This young man could tell her about her brother and judging by the way he'd been speaking, he could offer more horror, more misery and pain. How could her little Fionn become what he said, an almost murderer? He'd sometimes been sullen, yes, but... this was also the boy who'd curled himself up in an alcove of the family library, cuddled up with the osta as he sketched, often amusing himself trying to outline the animal's features and shape with whatever drawing implement of the moment on paper. The one who had been anxious about pleasing their father, long after it'd become apparent that the man didn't want him at all and that no matter what he did, Fionn would never fit into whatever ideas he held, never be what he expected.

How could that sweet child have turned into... a monster? Oh monstrous but not a monster, according to Lars but... what was the difference, really? Well, he'd come to check up on him, anxious to see that he was okay so... she supposed a monster wouldn't have done that. What he'd done though was... pretty monstrous. She was certainly conflicted, horribly, terribly conflicted.

Lars was talking again, his use of pronouns suddenly exceptionally distressing as her tormented mind tried to unravel which 'he' referred to which boy. The one that was clear in the mess of confusion was her brother's name and she worked backwards from there, picking out specific parts and trying to dissect them in a haphazard fashion.

It hadn't been normal for Fionn - but he beat people all the time apparently - although he had distaste for Lars. That was an odd word to choose, not simple dislike but something more visceral. But then he kept talking, the student trying to keep track of what more was being said, what greater verbal misery he could inflict on her. While her brother was in the mix, most of his words pointed to himself. As if the way that Lars was somehow justified mistreatment. Did he think that he deserved it? Maybe nobody had tried to beat him to death before but had he been abused by others in different ways?

There were always those who didn't fall into the class of what others considered 'normal' and who others like to poke and prod at for their difference. Verbal, physical, emotional, it seemed to come in many different forms, sometimes a combination of them all but there was always some sort of bullying and abuse, wasn't there? She'd seen it among her classmates, popular students picking on those they deemed losers, the strong picking on the weak and helpless, the 'normal' people picking on those they so as eccentric or radical.

Niamh had seen plenty of galdori, students and faculty alike, pick on passives. Her brother could be exceptionally cruel in that regard, going out of his way to humiliate and to hurt. Her brother, Oísin, definitely did it out of fear. The diablerie he'd been caught up in early during his Brunnhold education had never left him, neither had the sense of helpless terror and humiliation at being unable to defend himself against what he deemed an inferior and defective being, not even a real galdor. One of them had made him suffer in ways that didn't heal as readily as physical ills and so he'd decided that all of them were a potential threat, every one a source of potential emasculation so he hit them before they could - entirely unintentionally, of course - hit him. His vendetta was a very personal one but other galdori turned on their broken brethren for the simple reason that they could, or because their existence was an affront to their race, a sign that they weren't as superior as they'd all like to believe.

And everyone of them counted their blessings that it hadn't been them. It could so easily have been them.

But if there was a hierarchy among the galdori, an inequality even among the fully magical then it made sense that such a hierarchy existed among the passives themselves. It was so cruel to think of though because in truth, how could any of them be normal? You couldn't keep something caged and stunt its development and work it for life all while it knew it was filth in your eyes and expect it to remain all right. No animal could stand that for long so how could a person with all the complexity that came with such an identity?

So Lars' words set her sobbing again although this time she wasn't crying for Fionn or even for herself: she was crying for the Hessean. The redhead had buried her face in her hands, the sound of her own cries drowning out much of what was going on around her. She didn't know that the passive had approached her until she felt his closeness, the touch on her skirt making her jump, hands dropping away in time to see the hesitance in his demeanour and what sort of state she'd unknowingly been in. Then his arms were around her, the young woman swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat, quiet for now in surprise as she listened to him.

He was still talking about Fionn. Clock the Circle, how could she keep both of them in her head right now? Niamh didn't think she had enough room in her heart to grieve for them both, for them all. But she was able to throw her arms around at least one of them, limbs wrapping around his middle as she tried to awkwardly manoeuvre the handkerchief to her face so she wouldn't utterly drench him.

She tried to make a soothing, shushing sound but only managed a damp splutter.

"N-n-never mind Fionn! You p-p-p-poor thing, I'm s-s-s-s-so sorry" she sobbed out. "I'm sure y-y-you aren't a b-b-bother and- Oh sugar! I'm getting you w-w-wet, I'm sorry. But you aren't w-w-weird. Don't let anyone tell you that there's s-s-something wrong with you. They've no r-r-right to hurt you or be n-n-nasty to you or anything because they d-d-don't like you for being you."

She blew her nose noisily and apologised for it. Perhaps she was talking about herself a little bit here. Not that she was good at following her own advice given some of the comments that she had to deal with.

"My brother doesn't have the right either and he... he should know better," she struggled out. She wasn't inclined to let go of him any time soon, even though she was sobbing on his - no, clocking hell, Harper Moore's! - clothing. If he gave an indication that he wanted to be released then she'd do it of course but she had an odd feeling that he wasn't used to this. She was doing her utmost to make up for all the hugs he should have gotten over the years.

She could still remember all the times Fionn had initially flinched or shied away from contact, acting as if he didn't want it, but then holding onto her as if she was a life raft. Passives didn't get that sort of affection and love, but maybe most galdori children didn't. Her own upbringing had been on the cool side. Maybe they all needed to hug each other more because their parents wouldn't.
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic

Return to “Brunnhold”

  • Information
  • Who is online

    Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 13 guests