INTRO LOG #2

[abraxasmods]

Intro Log #2

It has been two months now since the initial group of summonings first took place. Castle Thorne, or at least the part above ground, is buzzing with a vibrant air of hope following the 'success' at the Singularity. Eager smiles and excited chattering are to be found in nearly every corner of the castle and surrounding town. The honored guests may find grateful looks turned their way more often than not. A new and brighter day seems to be dawning on the kingdom.

In the dungeons it's a different story entirely. The mood is somber and uneasy. The prisoner taken for trial has yet to return, and no word has come regarding her or her fate. There has been no mention of any further trials as of yet and guards seem to have little patience for unruly behavior or even conversation. Some seem to not even look at or acknowledge the prisoners at all.

[ Feel free to continue threads from the TDM here or start your own! As cell and room assignments will be short-lived due to this month's event, you're free to assume whichever cellmates and roommates you like instead of officially signing up as long as there are ICly no more than four people in a cell or room at once. ]

Comments

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[the_archive]

Jon's on the shady side of the exercise yard, talking quietly with another inmate with his back to most everyone else. But there's an eye there, the scar up the back of his neck narrowly open to show brilliant blue, and so he spots Martin. He falls silent in an instant, body stiff, hand suddenly clapped over his mouth.

Oh.

"Oh," he gasps, turning to see him with his own eyes, hand still covering his mouth. Hastily, he closes all of the extra eyes so they only look like the scars they used to be, and before he's decided if this is a good idea or not, he's heading for him, barely able to not break into a run.

[antichristsplusone]

Martin is trying his best to pay attention to everyone all at once, but even he's not that good a people person. At the very least he looks up when someone starts rushing towards him, but--

He freezes, and stares.

"Jon?!"

[the_archive]

It's his name in Martin's voice that makes his fast stride break into a run for those last few steps, and he grabs him into a hard, wordless hug on impact.

[antichristsplusone]

The impact is almost enough to wind, and certainly Martin lets out a solid grunt as the air gets slammed out of him by Jon.

By Jon. Giving him a bone-crushing hug (or as near as the scrawny Archivist can manage).

Immediately Martin's face turns a brilliant red, and he starts sputtering. "J-Jon, it's really-- oh my God, how did you- w-where--?"

Delightful, very coherent. But at least he can bring himself to, very tentatively, put his hands on Jon's - his boss's - shoulders. "A-are you... alright?"

[the_archive]

He holds him tighter for a moment, his mouth pressed to Martin's shoulder before he steps back just a little, lets go of him part way. He keeps a hand on Martin's arm, unwilling yet to give up that contact, and stares up into his face.

"Am I alright? Martin, you shouldn't be here, I checked, you were safe, safe right where I left you!"

He's going to kill Ambrose, if he sees the man again.

[antichristsplusone]

Martin's skin tingles where Jon's hand pressed against his shirt, and one hand comes up automatically to scratch lightly.

"What d'you mean, where you, left me? I've-- I've been in the tunnels for- god, days? Which--" he manages to look embarrassed again even under the bright blush. "I know you told us to go home, but, it-- you didn't seem well, so..."

God he's making a hash of explaining this isn't he?

[the_archive]

Jon pauses, searching Martin's face. "The tunnels? Under the Institute?"

[antichristsplusone]

Martin hesitates, when he looks down at Jon, watches him watch him. This... is a far cry from the frazzled but wholly intact man who'd told him to take a few days off.

"Y...yes? The... Tim and I followed the-- th-the thing that was Sasha down there." And doesn't his voice sound pained to say that, but he moves on immediately. "Jon, are you alright? You look wretched."

[the_archive]

His breath catches, unpleasantly startled. "... You and Tim." The way he says that name is almost strangled. "And- Oh."

He still doesn't let go of him, but he glances away, thinking back. "That was almost two years ago."

[antichristsplusone]

His eyes widen, and all that colour fades in an instant. "Wh...what?" He pulls back from Jon, looking horrified. "N-- no, n-no, we were only down there for a few days, surely? It can't be...!"

[the_archive]

"Oh, oh no, that's not what I mean!" He reaches for Martin's hands, but stops himself. Barely. "You and Tim came out of the tunnels the same day you went in! But for me. That was - let me think - a year and eight months ago. It was October, 2018, when Ambrose brought me here, and I've been here a little less than two months.

[antichristsplusone]

"What? No, it's- it's February, it's 2016, that doesn't..."

He holds one hand out in pause, so he can use the other to rub his face. "Jon, that doesn't make any sense, how-- how could you possibly be two years in the future?"

[the_archive]

"They've pulled people from dozens of worlds. And Ambrose was aiming for Gertrude when he got me." No longer a twist of sting there, but it still makes him frown. "So this shouldn't really be a surprise."

2016, though. It makes Jon lower his hand, rather than try to take Martin's again.

[antichristsplusone]

His small laugh is that of a man approaching breaking point (like he hasn't already passed it in the tunnels), and it makes his words a bit more terse than he means. "I-I think we can safely say, Jon, that- that none of this is within the realm of 'a bit of a surprise'.

[the_archive]

Jon hesitates and nods, and gestures to the benches at the sides of the yard. "Come sit down? I'll see if I can catch you up."

One of the small eyes in the mess of scars on his right hand opens a slit, this one so dark brown it's nearly black, and he snatches that hand back, hoping Martin didn't notice it.

[antichristsplusone]

He catches the jerk of Jon's hand away, but- well, he doesn't really know what to make of that. He certainly doesn't see anything weird or eyeball-related.

Instead he rubs his face with both hands, sounding tired and slightly muffled. "Sure. That sounds... yeah." He's happy to just follow Jon's lead as usual though when they sit he has a burning question.

"I just have to ask first, though, you... you didn't kill that man in your office, did you?" There's an almost desperate hope, there.

[the_archive]

Jon freezes for a moment, and then leans back against the wall. "No, I didn't kill Jurgen Leitner. Elias did, because he spoke to me. Couldn't have him answering too many questions," he says bitterly, that wound still sharp despite the time passed.

[antichristsplusone]

Martin frowns, then stares. "Sorry-- Jurgen, the Jurgen Leitner?!" And a moment's pause. "Elias?!"

[the_archive]

It's Jon's turn to rub his face, though he's careful of the scars around his eye.

"Yes, the book collector. It was him, living in the tunnels under us. He had a book that could reshape them, and he used it to trap the not-Sasha, saving me."

[antichristsplusone]

"Right, um. That... makes sense, yeah."

And he's not being facetious, funnily enough. Of everything so far, he knows that Leitner books are weird. It made sense that there was a book like that.

"I'm, um. I'm sorry," he adds, a little abruptly. "Tim and I were looking for you, we followed th-the Not-Sasha down there but we ran into-- Michael." He swallows dryly, and the rest comes in a rush. "I-I don't think-- we couldn't even use the tape recorder to track it all, when we went through the door after he- it found us, we wanted to come and help you, m-maybe if we had, then..."

Then they could have helped keep Leitner alive, or helped Jon stay safe by distracting the monster, or-- or done something besides be useless and lost and helpless.

[the_archive]

He can't help but frown sourly at the mention of Michael. "I took his door too," he says softly. "He dumped me straight into the tunnels. You probably couldn't have found me without help."

Though the Not-Sasha did.

"Martin, I shouldn't have- I destroyed the table. I thought it would kill the thing, but it just set it free."

[antichristsplusone]

"That's-- it's not your fault, Jon. How--" His hands twine nervously in his lap; not having a cup of tea to busy himself with made his hands very restless. "How could you have known that destroying it would-- do anything, really? It didn't-- it's not like our job makes sense on the best of days, you know?"

[the_archive]

"I could have known." He can't keep his eyes off of Martin's hands, and it's easier than looking into his face. "If I'd let myself."

He takes a deep breath, and lets it out again, and rests his good hand on his knee, palm up. An offer, if Martin will take it. One he knows is maybe a bad idea, but he can't quite stop himself.

"Leitner told me enough, about what we're facing. About where it all comes from. Keeps coming from. The Entities, and what the Archive is."

[antichristsplusone]

...oh.

Martin feels his face turn red again, and it feels like it's making his whole body burn up; his hands are warm, then, when he - hesitantly, nervously, like it's going to get pulled away or he's going to get in trouble (or worse, teased) - puts his right hand in Jon's left. Wraps his thick fingers around the slender palm, feeling old scars under his fingers; lightly, for a few seconds, before he gives a gentle squeeze.

He's so focused on doing this right, in fact, that he misses most of what Jon actually says. And he looks up again sharply. "Th-the Archive? I-I mean, we sort of worked out that it wasn't right after the whole Prentiss thing, didn't we?"

[the_archive]

It's steadying, being able to hold Martin's hand, and Jon visibly relaxes a little, squeezing softly back. The eyes are behaving, remaining politely closed, for now.

"Right. It is far from right. Elias- Elias is no different from Jane Prentiss, or Simon Fairchild, or Annabelle Cain." Or me, he doesn't say. He's trying to remember which statements Martin might have seen, by February 2016. "They all serve the Entities. Beings made of fear. Different fears."