Recording #004 | The Voice

[the_archive]

WHO: Jonathan Sims et al
WHAT: DOOM
WHERE: The return from the Horizon, and the dungeons.
WHEN: From July 24th to August 12^th
WARNING: Body horror, eyes, execution talk, mention of self-harm.
NOTES: Always up to add something more specific for any asker. I'm in the group disco at all hours, or on plurk as TheHats.

 

1.

Jon wakes up outside the rim of the crater with a sense of gentle, falling disappointment, staring up at the sky. He simply lays there for a while in the long grass, hands folded on his stomach, unmoving. It's one of the guards accompanying the mages that first notices he's awake, and they're swift to pull him to his feet. The guard who grabs his wrist to recuff him makes a startled sound when one of the three broad scars across Jon's throat opens and blinks lazily at him, and when another eye winks from the back of his neck, the guard escorting him back to the group pushes harder than necessary, sending him to his knees.

It's there he goes still, frozen, his eyes – all of his eyes, in their dozens now, every scar opening to show a different shade of iris with pinprick pupils – go wide as the voice sounds inside his head, for him alone, a dead language hissing like static between his ears.
 

H̷̨̀͂É̴̩̩͋L̷̘͂͝L̴̳̹͐Ö̴̠͉́ ̴̱̽͝H̴̡̱̎͝E̸̥̻̍̄L̵͈̽͜L̷̙͛͒Ọ̶́̔
̶̬̾Ý̸͓̖͝O̷̦͐U̴͈̿̒ ̷̳̔̀C̴̳̰̚A̸̰̔N̸͎͕̈́ ̸̗̦̂U̶̼̖͌Ṋ̶̛́ͅD̸͌̕͜E̴͖̩̅̽Ȓ̴͔͚̔S̸̘̔T̷͎͔͊͐A̶̰͑̎Ň̴̬͝D̷̙̂̐ ̸̨̦͂̊M̴͖̾Ě̷͔ ̶̹̙͆Y̷̺̱͛E̸̟̓͗S̶͎̀̒ ̸̧̥̆F̵̝̯͗I̷̛̯̔N̶̡̪͠Â̶͙̩Ĺ̸̖̭͝L̵͎̩̇Ý̸̲͈ ̷̙́ͅB̴̻̙́̈́È̶̖͖Ę̴̩͒̄N̴̺̋̑ ̵̛̮͠W̴̻̃A̴̗̞̍̕Í̷̻͝T̷͚͒́Ì̷̙̃͜Ṅ̴͖͖̂G̶̺̩̃

He doesn't answer when he's ordered to his feet,
 

Ç̵̥͗͑Ą̷͖͂N̴̨͈͝'̵̥̇̂T̶͔͍̕ ̶̬́͌T̵̹̔͘Ą̸̲͊͝L̷̺̓̚K̵͖̚ ̴̼̿́M̷̟̉̓Ǘ̵̠͐C̴̖̔H̵̜́ ̸̤͛Ṋ̸̄͝O̸͉̣͒̔W̵̱͐ ̸̱̻̅̚V̸̥͝͠Ẽ̷͚R̸̎͊͜Y̴̠̋̕ ̶̗̎E̵̡͒X̴̟̀H̷̘̀̓Ả̷̪U̸̞̦͊S̸̘̜̍T̶̡͙̀Ȋ̵̘N̵͓̬͂Ğ̵̢
̷͓͈͆I̷̅͜ ̵̯͌̒W̴͓͜͠I̶͔̝̍L̸̨̯̀́L̴̢̟͆͑ ̸̱̿Ș̷͆Ẹ̷͖͝Ṉ̸̼͊̎D̵̦̃ ̷̯̗̇͝M̷̤͐Ẏ̷͎ ̷̬̑Ȩ̵͍̏̏N̸̤͋V̷͚̺̾̇O̴͔̮̍̃Y̷̦͝

or rise when they yank his arm.
 

Ť̵̞̈́R̵̛͉̀Y̴̳͠ ̷̡̹̃N̶̘͆̉O̸̡͕̅T̵̨͗́͜ ̶͉̏́Ṭ̵̋Ȍ̸̺͓̚ ̷̢̬̽L̵̼̱̚O̸͙̾̔O̴͚̠͗͠Ḱ̸̢̕ ̷͉͈̔H̸̙̜͑̾E̶̻͒̈́ ̷̱̭̇̔I̵̻̩͗̾S̷̤̊͂ ̴͓̥̊Ǹ̶͍͇̍Ȍ̶ͅT̵͙̈́̄ ̷͕̎̓M̷͚̗̀E̴̝͛A̸͈̅N̶͓̏T̵͓̒̈́ ̸̰͙͌͌T̶͍̗̑̏O̶̡͙̽̑ ̸̠͆B̷͔͔͠E̸̼̔ ̴͙̍̓ͅS̶͉̽̏Ė̶̠̘̑E̴̪̓́͜N̷̻͍͐͝ ̸̤̉͊Ẉ̵̓̒I̴͍͋T̸̡̾H̴̖͉̎ ̶̗̠̀E̴̞̋Ẏ̴͖E̸͇̔S̴̩̕͜ ̸̀͜Ḁ̶̺̂͑Ṡ̶̯̘ ̸̱̈́͆O̸̝̓̃P̸͍͉͝Ę̶̪̚N̴͓͐ ̴̭͑Ḁ̵̱̆͂S̶̜̭͌̋ ̵̟̽̎Y̷͚̽O̷͔̙̔͒Ü̸̘̎R̸̺̚S̶͔̬̈́̚
̶̪̬̏I̸̢̝̓̀T̴̓ͅ ̸̳̃͛Ẇ̵̫̱Ȋ̶̘͔̇L̷͍͗L̸̦͊́͜ ̷̫̆͠H̶̤͍̾͝Ų̵͂̀R̶̰̳̈́̋Ţ̸͇̓ ̶̢͚̾L̵̳̍͛ͅĪ̸͎̜͝Ķ̴̗̈́̽Ē̴̡ ̷̜̀̚Ś̶̨̮T̸̢̎͜A̶̹̗̾̊R̷̝̄I̵̳̼͐̚Ǹ̴͖̥G̷̼͆̓ ̷̤́͠I̴͎̍N̷̫̻̎T̸̡͆Ỏ̵͔̱ ̷̣̽T̵̮̠̓H̷̦͒̇Ẹ̵̤́̒ ̷̪̔̄Ş̷̑U̴̹̫͆̔N̴̗̱͗̋ ̷͔͚͋̌

He's frozen in horror, listening to something other than their gruff orders,
 

W̴̨͗̈͠Ȃ̴̝̦I̸͍͕͂̿͝T̷̹̫̮͑ ̸̱͇͛̒͒F̴̧͕̬̋̏Ö̵̹͚͒R̵͔̔̃ ̶͉̲̂̂͑H̸̯̪̊Ī̴̳͚̈́̒M̴̢̼͔͊̚
̵̏͜S̶̖͂͝È̸̳̰̥T̷̿͜ ̸̫̮́̅M̵̺̒E̷̦̍͝ ̴͓͙̽̈́F̴̦͊̐̄ͅR̸̯̕Ẽ̵̘̆E̸͎̻̓ͅ ̵̼̊̀͌

and when they finally get him up, he staggers where he's pushed, stands where he's left, numb, pale, and breathing fast.

2.

He's still just as unsettled when they're returned to the cells. He manages to retreat to his bed, although there's no sleep for him. The new eyes don't all shut, not when he wants them too, and he twitches at every voice. Twitches and relaxes again when he realizes they're safe, he's only hearing them with his ears.

It takes him until the next day to begin to breathe easily again, and even then, the equanimity he displayed before the Horizon is gone. Instead of sitting by the bars to see who's coming down the corridor, now he paces, jaw so tense his head aches. It's not the Eye. He knows that much. What it is, what it might be, he doesn't know. And he fears.

Comments

[the_archive]

"It's not mine." There's a brief hint of smugness to his smile for a moment. "I mean, it is, in that I made it. But it's a replica of the set piece my old boss made to try to destroy the world. I made it to watch it rot, unfulfilled, apparently."

And thinking of it in decay under a sunny sky still makes him smile, even right now, before he gets back on track.

"No. I don't know how much this matters." A brief gesture at the eyes. "But he's brought in someone else. from my world, and I think it's very important to know if he brought him, specifically, on purpose or not." There's a halt in his words, brief but weighty.

[falcony]

Sam's brows lift very curiously at that explanation. Because Jon drops 'boss' and 'destroy the world' like it's the most casual thing someone could say, and Sam wants to know the story. But he's also not surprised by it, or will push for it, if only because. Well. They all sort of come from insane places, don't they? And Jon seems quite pleased with himself for not being the one who did the destroying. Sam is pretty sure those are all good thing.

It's when Jon moves on, though, that Sam shifts back into something more serious, shifting a bit where his arms are crossed over his chest. "You mean as a guest or down here in the dungeon? Or something else?" A beat, and then Sam continues. "What's their name?"

[the_archive]

Not destroying the world is the only thing Jon's pleased with himself about, and he can't even take credit. That was Ambrose.

"Three cells down. Martin Blackwood." He gestures vaguely, motions stilted with restraint. "He's from about two years before my time," he adds, raised eyebrows acknowledging that bit of absurdity. "Which... is before he and I became involved, and before he knew very much about the things we were facing."