abraxaslogs | All that Remains

Knock, knock.

[ Nero says as he enters the residence of Amos without knocking. He pauses as he sees the man seemingly out of it. Oh shit. Did he find some goodies here?! Honestly, this peaceful living has been eating on him so he is more than happy to try something else. However, he is unable to find anything that could be said "goodie" around where Amos is. ]

The shit?

[ He reaches out to shake the man's shoulder and convince him to tell the elf where his stash is.

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Darkness.

He blinks, adjusts the focus of his eyes.

He is staring at a man that he doesn't recognize. His mouth slides open in mild confusion.

Who is this?

Wait. Who am I? These questions aren't asked with any urgency or panic. It is the same amount of concern as wondering if he should bring a coat outside because it is cold.

Huh. Should I kill this person? The question is equally calm. His head tilts at the question, however. Why is that the first thing he thinks? Is he being threatened? Is he in danger?

Because it would be fun.

Oh.

He is that kind of person.

Okay.

I don't want to, though. His mind seems confused with the rational decision. I dunno how I got here and it seems like a real fucking pain to get back alone.

Ah.

That is the only reason.

The fact the man is alive means it might lessen an inconvenience to him.

Okay.

So, he is a real shitty person. Good to know.

He finally says something. His inner conversation over; lasting all but a few seconds. ]

Hey, man. What's up?

[ The Horizon is tough for Amos. He'd first found his way back in by accident; a moment when simply existing had faded away to, well, this. And it seems unproductive — there's shit he's gotta do out in the real world — but this is somewhere private. A place he can meet up with people again, no matter how separated they are, apparently.

His only chance of going back home. Now that his memories are back, he's been able to restore the Roci, to an extent. Have her be big enough to live in. Outside is still the endless black of space, should he want to get lost in it; easy enough to just open up a hatch and slip out without having to worry about losing air or anything. But also, much easier to hang out on the Roci's command deck, where her crew would be. If they were here at all.

... Plus it's probably a good idea to practise coming back here. Too bad he didn't account for this guy.

Amos stares at Nero, watching him get his bearings, waiting for him to do something, answer whatever questions he has playing through his mind, and— Oh.

So everyone loses their memories coming in, apparently.

Fuck. What's he supposed to do with this? ]

Well, you're here now. [ Eloquent. Super helpful. ] Guess that's what's up.

[ Welcome, except maybe... nah. Doesn't seem like a positive development. ]

You're right, chief; you're right.

[ That does seem to be what's up.

The man also doesn't seem to know what to do with him. However, he notes there is a familiar way that he looks at him, like he knows him.

Are we friends? His mind asks. Nah, that don't sound right. It isn't that he's distrusting of the person, but he has come to understand he is a very shitty person. He isn't the kind of person that'd have friends.

But he doesn't seem hostile. His eyebrows furrow as he looks at him, bemused. Oh, he just might be nicer than me. Sucks to be him, I guess. ]

None of this looks right. [ He gestures towards where they are. While he may not have memories of who he is, he does have a general idea of what things should look like. ] It's all metal and shit. What the fuck?

That's weird. [ He gives him an easy smile. His statement of how 'weird' with the same amount of anxiety as how he's taking his amnesia, which is to say not much at all. Oh, hey. I seem to be an easy-going person. Shitty but easy-going. That's good for me. ]

You live like this?

[ Amos wonders if he had been like this when he'd first come here, no memories to tell him who he was, leaving him to operate solely by instinct. He's pretty sure he wasn't, but then again, he hadn't really been confronted by anyone head on until he'd had time to put his space together. Nobody to ask any questions. Not that he'd have had any, probably.

There's a power imbalance that there hadn't been when they'd all gone in the first time. Amos knows who he is, and it's very apparent Nero doesn't. And he... doesn't know what to do with that. He can't help the guy, and that's the only thing it seems like he should be doing, dangerous as he knows he is, but...

Nero earns himself a flat stare with his remarks, his question. ]

Yeah. [ Voice is flat, too; not so much out of annoyance as it should be obvious. ] Try to, anyway. You get to make whatever you want here. So I made what I like.

[ It's not like there's anything Nero could actually do with the information, but he's not about to spell it out for him that this is what his home looks like. Cold metal and nothing but, a container to keep them housed from the vacuum of space. It's not weird; a fuckton of people live like this back where Amos is from. And it's the only environment in which he's ever known anything that could so much as resemble happiness.

He folds his arms over his chest. Cocks his head. ] What do you like?

[ Best case, he gets to learn something about the guy. Worst case... is there even a worst case? Kinda feels like either they stay stagnant or go up from here. Either one's fine. ]

And you made this.

[ He starts out saying as he knocks his knuckles against one of the metal plating that is all around. To him, it isn't cozy at all, but he doesn't have memories to pull from to give much more of an analysis beyond that, sadly. It seems like he has a general understanding of shit, but any real specifics are lost. ]

I can make what I like, huh? [ Parroting the response back, he muses over the question about what it is that he likes.

Murder? He certainly was quick to think about it. His head tilts; he wonders if he should share his thoughts. Who the fuck cares? This person knows who I am, anyway. Anything I share now is either shit he already knows, or something to affirm what he knows.

In short, it isn't anything that can hurt him at this point. And he also gets the distinct feeling that he would be annoyed if he was trying to keep himself from being hurt. Glutton for pain? No. Just don't like the manipulative shit. There are plenty of ways to manipulate a person, but lying who you are? That's cowardly and bullshit.

So, he's honest for the most part.

Neat. ]

I thought it'd be murder. [ He finally answers, running his hands along the chrome around them, walking the perimeter. Not to intimidate, not predating, they're having a conversation and he doesn't like the idea of just standing around as he does it.

What's that say about me?

Unclear. ]

I like the idea of it. Bloodshed and screams. The sound of it gurgling out of the mouth. [ He mimes with his free hand blood pouring out. ] Yeah, that shit seems to really get me going. [ A beat. ] But I don't want to kill aimlessly, frivolously, meaninglessly.

Even though I think I'd find killing for those reasons is funny. [ He stops walking. ] No. I don't think it's funny. I find that irritating. I find that incredibly fucking irritating.

[ But why? The reason -- the why -- is lost to him. That is part of who he really is; so he can only get a vague sense of displeasure if it is done just to watch everything burn. ]

So, I guess I don't wanna just make some folks to tear apart for my amusement. [ Hm, then, what does he like? ]

Let's start spitballing since the obvious choice is out, okay, pal?

Edited 2021-09-15 17:07 (UTC)

[ For his part, Amos is perfectly comfortable staying still, watching Nero walk about the Roci's operations deck. It's not like there's anything he can do here that would ruin things; if there somehow was, Amos could fix it within a second. Guy feels the need to move, he can move.

He already knew Nero was a killer, but the way he describes people dying... Yeah, Amos isn't a fan of that. He's familiar with everything he's saying, it's just not something he's relished. You kill someone and you're done with it. That's it. Anything more is perverse. ... So of course that'd be the case with Nero. It's almost a surprise to hear that he doesn't want to just slaughter people for kicks.

Guy is just full of those, huh. His face stays impassive. He doesn't like any of what he's hearing, but he isn't exactly affected by it, either. ]

Guess just an ocean of blood is out for you, huh. Since it wouldn't mean anything. [ His voice is flat. A little sarcastic. ] Surely there's more to you than just murder.

[ Turning his head, he lets out a sharp laugh. It comes out quick, obviously amused by the man's flat and vaguely sarcastic tone. ]

Right. No ocean of blood. Ugh!

[ He pauses to turn his head to stick his tongue out; the slimy thing wiggles obscenely in the air. ]

Surely!

[ His tongue snakes its way back into his mouth. However, the way that he says that one -- surely -- sounds like he isn't so sure that he is that multifaceted a person. ]

What do I like? [ He runs his hands along the metal, musing aloud. ] That's a really hard question for someone without memories. [ Bringing his hand back, he points to his own face. ] But I don't think I'm the type of person that has loved ones.

[ So, scratch that idea out! ]

Nothing really comes to mind. [ His hand rests on his hip. ] Isn't that funny? I can't think of a home I'd like. I can't think of a scenery that'd please me. I can't imagine anything that'd comfort me, but between you and me, buddy, I am feeling pretty chill right now.

[ Fixing his gaze on him, he smiles. ] Like, I get the feeling like you might try to kill me at any second, but it's more like, "Oh, that might happen." Isn't that funny? Shouldn't I be more worried about it? [ He admits how pathetic his feelings are; he can create anything that he wants and there isn't anything he desires. ]

What a cool guy that I am. Too cool to need anything! [ He mocks his own existence with a smile and a laugh; he likes himself as he is, so there is that, at least. ]

[ Everything about Nero is just... repugnant, Amos figures. He narrows his eyes at his out-loud musings, the animated way in which he talks. It's grotesque. A mockery of— well, not humanity, since the guy clearly isn't human, but... not being that multifaceted a person, yeah, he can see that.

Has to remind himself that he actually does have loved ones. They're back home, and he'll probably never see them again, but he does. There's a clear line of separation between him and Nero. It's not a great sign, though, that Amos has to keep reminding himself of that.

He does not smile in return. ]

Don't think any of us can die here. So wouldn't be much point to trying to kill you right now. [ Otherwise, no, he's not denying it. Out in the real world? That's still very much on the table. Someone who doesn't care at all, though — well, Amos already knew Nero was dangerous. It's uncomfortable, how similar the cloth they're cut from may be, even though Nero expresses himself in a completely different way. On the surface, they're clearly nothing alike; deeper than that, and Amos has his doubts.

At least neither of them can do any real harm here. They're just... stuck together, now. Amos doesn't even get why Nero had to show up here in the first place. He'd been having a peaceful moment; now he's not. ] Maybe you could make a void of nothingness. It's what I did when I first got here.

[ The last sentence just slides out; can't help but wonder if he's gonna regret that or what, but it's out there now. ]

That so?

[ He tucks his hands into his pockets. Ah, pockets? Nero pauses to glance down at the attire that he's wearing. The clothes -- or shape of the clothes -- initially were just a black smear across his body. Letting things go on autopilot, he has created pants and short boots for himself. The top of his clothes fades to create a long jacket that hangs open to show his bare chest. ]

Guess I'm proud of myself. [ He lightly runs his hand over his chest. Huh? A bandana appears over his forehead. Something bothers him about that, but he lets it go. It isn't like it's gonna make sense to him, anyway. ]

When you first got here? So, you also don't have anything that you love or hate?

[ He turns to fix his gaze on the man. ]

[ Watching things fall into place for Nero, even if only subconsciously on his part, sure does make things feel at least a little less awkward. Not that it was a problem he didn't have defined clothes before; more that it's some kind of confirmation that he isn't a totally blank slate. Nero doesn't care about anything but get him to concentrate on something else and things fall into place. Nothing Amos understands, but at least somethings. There's someone there, however unpleasant he may be.

Amos just has a dark olive jumpsuit; black sleeveless shirt underneath. Utilitarian. Something he's used to, before a... whole lot of shit went down. Fits the environment here, on this re-creation of his ship, anyway.

He meets Nero's gaze head on. ]

Not particularly, no. [ His voice is cool, casual. ] Nothing that came to mind when I didn't have memories. Shit, not a whole lot now. Couple of things I like — [ obviously, considering they're somewhere structured now; a real environment and not the nothingness he'd just suggested (that's outside) — ] but it's not really important.

[ People are what's important, and his aren't here, so. All of this is really just a means of lying to himself: escapism for someone who knows it isn't a real thing. Kind of seems like a sick joke that Amos' people can't be here, but Nero is; based on what he knows of the elf's sense of humour, he figures he'd get a kick out of it if he knew what it all meant. Not that Amos is going to elaborate on that. Ever.

He does ~~doesn't~~ want to know what his reaction is going to be to that, though. How similar they are underneath it all. Doesn't know what he'll do with the answer, especially if he doesn't like it. Just. It's something he's gonna find out now, is all. ]

[ He taps the tips of his fingernails against the metal around him, listening to the very soft sound it makes as he does so. ]

Right? [ A laugh follows. ] This whole thing isn't important. [ His arms open to gesture to the space that they find themselves in. ]

Whatever I create for myself, it doesn't matter. [ It won't be his home; he isn't even sure he knows what shape his home would take. ] It'd just be something for the sake of making something.

[ He breathes out. The emptiness that he feels; it isn't harrowing or frightening to him. If he put it into words -- ] The nothingness I feel ... it just feels comfortable. [ His lips curl back to offer him a sharp smile. ]

When I think about it... if I was someone who cared about others, who cared about my own life, I'd be panicked right about now. I'd be scared and pissing my pants about not knowing anything. [ The curse comes out sharp; like it doesn't belong in his mouth. He accents it too hard that gives himself pause. Oh? I don't like swearing around people I'm not completely comfortable with, I guess. ]

Anyway, it seems like I bothered you by suddenly showing up, chief. Sorry about that!

Edited 2021-09-21 01:37 (UTC)

[ Yeah. Strip away everything about them, boil them down to their natural impulses, instinctual reactions and they might as well be the same person.

So, fuck.

His face stays neutral. Maybe he frowns a little — just enough to be noticeable — but that's it. Doesn't like Nero's reaction because it confirms enough about himself; nothing to really do about that. ]

It's easier when there's nothing.

[ No environment, no memories, no feelings; just you, and whatever it is you are. And no matter how you present yourself — whether you're extroverted or introverted, apparently — it all comes down to the same thing.

It's comforting when there's nothing, and neither of them really care.

He's not that far off from being like Nero. It doesn't bother him. What bothers him is that it doesn't bother him.

Amos shuts his eyes for a prolonged moment, scowls. Inhales. Opens his eyes when he exhales, looking back out at Nero. ]

Yeah, not really sure how you ended up here. [ He is still completely clueless about how this place is supposed to work. Was only a matter of time before something went wrong. ] But, you know. You're something. So.

[ Not nothing. Kinda throwing a lot of this place off, huh. Adding meaning by being real. And not exactly a meaning he'd want brought to his attention. ]

I can imagine!

[ Nero might not have any memories of who he is but he realizes that he has lots of thoughts about the world and its workings. ]

Super easy when there's nothing. No past, no present... [ His hands again dip into his pockets as he rocks on his heels. ] There's reasons for what I'm doing and reasons for what I want to do, but. [ One hand comes out of his pockets as he makes a gesture next to his head to indicate it all being gone. ]

When it's just me, I'm surprised that I'm not more of a problem.

[ A problem. A person that would try to kill the man next to him; trying to make grotesque disgusting scenes for anyone where they are can wander into like he did. Yet he's doing none of those things. What a laugh! ]

I'm something! You're something, too!

[ He shifts to give him a look and a bright smile. ]

We're certainly not friends, but you're being patient enough with me. I appreciate it. I doubt I'll do anything to reciprocate the kindness, but in case I do, let's both be surprised by it, okay?

closed to amos.

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