animus_network | ☿ // 005; [text]

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☿ // 005; [text]

[This message flickers onto the network late at night, once Waver's had a chance to both check his mail and read the book delivered to him.]

Who the hell left that in my mailbox.

I am not playing games. I am not remotely pleased. If I ever find out who you are, I'm going to throttle you. And if it was an administrator, I'll do much worse than that.

[Waver didn't linger on the network for very long after posting; he eventually stormed off carrying the book in question and wearing a disturbingly calm expression.]

[action; floor fifty-five]

[Why was there an incinerator here and could it possibly come to life and kill him? Who cared? Certainly not the Clock Tower's favorite professor. Who, by the way, to be slowly coming apart from 'tranquil fury' to just plain fury as he threw his newly received book into the incinerator as hard as he could.]

Fucking tower. [He reached up to something at the level of his collarbone--a pendant hidden under his shirt, apparently. Satisfied it was still there, the magus lowered his hand and turned sharply to head back to the dorm floors.]

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[For a moment another emotion joins the worry in Diarmuid's eyes--fear. Very few things ever upset Waver this much and the fact that he is being so insistent about not talking about it not only scares Diarmuid, but also hurts...

Aren't they suppose to face everything together?

Unconsciously, his hand tightens on Waver's shoulder.]

Fine. Then tell me who I need to kill for upsetting you and we will call this done.

...I don't know. [Waver refused to look directly at him; he had to get his stupid, haywire emotions under control first.]

[Waver isn't the only one trying to get his emotions under control. Diarmuid hates seeing Waver like this. Even more, he hates not being able to do anything about it. It frustrates him and makes him feel useless and that feeling makes him angry.

It's something of a vicious cycle.

Unconsciously, the hand Diarmuid has on Waver's shoulder moves to stroke his friend's hair. The gesture is meant to help calm them both.]

What can I do? Please. I need to do something to help you...

It's fine now. Honestly, there's nothing else that can be done about it.

[It did seem to relax Waver somewhat; a measure of tension drained from his posture and he finally managed to look at Diarmuid properly.]

Just...just tell me you're alright. Humor me for a minute and that'll help.

I'm fine, Waver. At least, as fine as I can be considering I'm scared to death that you aren't.

[Diarmuid gives Waver a confused look.]

Why are you so suddenly worried about me? Did someone threaten me?

Not exactly. I mean, I don't know--I'm not sure how I could explain it even if I wanted to.

[Diarmuid is silent for a moment, eyes darting to the incinerator before looking back at Waver.]

Since you don't want to talk about this, let me make a few guesses as to the topic.

[He gives Waver's hair one last stroke before turning and taking a few steps away from his friend.]

You got something...distasteful in your mail today, didn't you? Something to do with me?

...yes.

[Folding his arms, Waver replied with no small amount of hesitation. He didn't particularly want to stand here and play twenty questions, but he couldn't just lie about it.]

[Diarmuid says nothing. Instead, he reaches into one of the pockets of his outfit and pulls out a small, but amazingly life-like doll. He holds it up over his shoulder so Waver can see it, though he is very obviously making an effort not to look at it.

The doll's face, though small, should look familiar to one who knows as much about Diarmuid's legend as Waver does.]

This was in my mailbox when I stopped by during my last patrol. Needless to say, finding it is the reason I wasn't in my room when I felt your reaction. I needed to be working...not thinking.

Should it join your book?

[If he can since he had tried to throw it away the moment it had spoken with his wife's voice and found himself unable to do it no matter how much he had wanted to.]

...

[If Waver could turn much more pale than he already had, that was exactly what he just did.]

It...might be safer to burn it, yes.

Yes...that is what my head tells me and yet when I tried to drop it into the garbage after it spoke to me, I couldn't.

[He pauses, turning to look at the doll purposely now. After a few moments, it speaks.

Won't you run away with me?

As soon as it does, he looks away again to make sure it doesn't repeat the words. Then, Diarmuid laughs a rather sad and shaky laugh.]

She never said it like that. She was never so polite, but the voice is spot on at least...

Someone here is trying to get into our heads, Diarmuid. We can't just let them do that, or at the very least we can't make it so goddamned easy.

[Waver stepped forward to close the distance between them, reaching over to place a thin but steady hand over Diarmuid's. His own anger and frustration weren't forgotten, but they took a distant second priority to the current matter. The lecturer's tone softened, a determined but sympathetic look breaking through his sharp and cold expression.]

...We'll do it together. And I'll...I'll tell you what I burned as well.

Edited 2013-08-13 00:47 (UTC)

I kno--

[Diarmuid stops when his voice cracks and takes a deep breath, steadying himself.]

I know. You're right. I thought I had let it all go, but I guess it's not so easy to let go of such a big part of your life...

[He closes his eyes a moment, before nodding.]

Together, yes. It's how we do everything, after all.

[Keeping his eyes closed so he doesn't accidentally cause the doll to speak again, Diarmuid turns and moves toward the incinerator careful not to pull away from Waver as he does.]

Direct the throw please. If it speaks again, I probably won't be able to do this. Not even with your help.

I understand. It's not easy, I know. But we don't have much choice right now. Keep holding on to this sort of sentiment and it'll be like painting a glowing target on our backs.

[Waver's hand shifted to Diarmuid's wrist, gently directing his hand towards the incinerator.]

Ready?

Yes...

[Despite his answer, for a moment Diarmuid's hand tightens on the doll, his heart overruling his head. It's not her that causes his pause so much as the memories that are tied to her. Their home. Their children.

The love that had never been real...

But that is all the past now. Long past. Even if his world had not been destroyed, none of them would walk it any longer. They have all been dead nearly as long as he has. They live only in his memories, but he needs no doll to remind him of those things. The memories will always be a part of his soul no matter what happens to him or to his world.

Diarmuid's grip loosens as quickly as it had tightened, and he readies his arm to throw the doll as hard as he can. He's just waiting for Waver to direct his hand forward to begin the throw.]

[It had been easy for Waver to discard that which would hold him back here. Ismene, Tohsaka, even Eskardos and countless other students...thoughts of them had been forced back and locked away. Until he could find a way to reclaim those days of petty frustrations and ordinary events, he wouldn't dwell on a Clock Tower that currently didn't exist.]

[That was simple. But simplicity didn't make it painless.]

[Here goes nothing.]

[With that thought and no longer than a second's hesitation, he pushed Diarmuid's hand forward to help his friend distance himself from that which would hurt him as well.]

[The doll leaves Diarmuid's hand much more easily than he had expected it to. Just that little push--that bit of guidance--had been all he needed to fling the painful reminder away from him. He had half expected his hand to close unconsciously around the fabric of the doll's dress as it slid through his fingers, but it hadn't. He hadn't tried to stop the throw at all and he feels much lighter for it. Perhaps he will question his actions later, but for now he is glad to have the doll gone.

Diarmuid smiles, turning to Waver and finally opening his eyes again.]

Thank you. It seems like we really can do anything as long as we do it together...

Of course we can.

[He wrapped his arms around Diarmuid's shoulders lightly from behind, again not looking at him straight on.]

...it was a book of mythology. About you, specifically. But everything...everything ended in you dying in one god-awful way or the other. I don't know why I bothered to keep reading, I couldn't stand it--

[His voice cracked, head leaning against Diarmuid's shoulder.]

I don't want to lose you again.

So the Administrators felt the need to 'improve' upon the tragic story of my life? Someone should remind Jason he is a scientist not a bard. He should stick to what he knows best....

[As painful as it had been to realize that he might not have let go of the pains of his past as much as he had hoped he had, Diarmuid knows he got off lucky. Waver's 'gift' had been so much worse.

He turns in Waver's arms so that he can wrap his own arms around his friend.]

You did the right thing. Such lies shouldn't be allowed to exist. You know I'm not going anywhere. Not until we leave here together and head home.

I know, I know. I just...I let it get to me more than I should have. I'll be alright, Diarmuid.

[He laughed bitterly against Diarmuid's shoulder.]

If it was Jason, he's a half-assed writer.

Well, it is his month in charge and he's plenty angry with us. Why not, right?

[Now that they are standing close to each other again, Diarmuid reaches up to lightly stroke Waver's hair like he had before.]

We both let the items get to us more than we should have, but considering they were directly aimed at our weaknesses, it shouldn't be surprising. I can't help but wonder if he is trying to weaken everyone up for his monthly experiment. It's due to start soon. We should probably be extra vigilant.

...right. [Waver took a deep breath, voice steadying as he finally managed to calm himself down.]

We just have to remember he's trying to play games with our heads and not to let him start practically renting out space in there.

Easier said than done, though I do have a bit of information that might help with that...

[Thankfully, since they are standing so close together, Diarmuid can keep his voice low enough that it probably won't be overheard by anyone or anything watching.]

It's said someone who went down with the infiltrating groups actually saw what Jason looks like underneath the image he usually shows us. Have you hear about this?

...the hell do you mean 'what he looks like'.

[Oh goddammit.]

Don't tell me this glamour bullshit applies to them too.

You didn't already assume that?

[Diarmuid gives Waver a curious look.]

I think deep down I kind of figured that was the case and I know others did, but yes, they apparently are hiding behind glamour images just as much as we are. Which makes me wonder if it is for the same reason we are--to retain a facade of normalcy while trapped in a body that isn't their original one.

Though if what I was shown and told is the truth, their bodies are much more...customized than our are. At least, Jason's was. Of course, that only makes sense considering they are the ones in control here.

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