eyediot | jmart corruption au

Corruption JMart au for Rho

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From:

[He saw it. Just for a split moment, he saw it. It's so familiar it aches but it couldn't be. Soon the spirit or whatever it is, is out of his sight and grained to just a whisper again.

A different mystery is in front of him now, and he wants to see it through.]

I know you're there. If you're trying to trap me, I'm afraid you'll have to make it worse to get anything out of it.

[But he reaches for the doorknob in front of him and turns it slowly.]

From:

curriculum_fictae

Trying. To - get out.

[ The voice is almost pleading as it drifts in after Jon. As before, its voice strengthens as it goes along, and more as it finds sensible ways to reply to Jon. It can't make its own words, but it can repeat Jon's.

Inside is ... well. A familiar room. The old shared office in the Archives, with three desks placed in a T shape. Across the way, a dust-smeared glass door likely reads HEAD ARCHIVIST if Jon's memory serves him correctly. Where there would be decorations or names on the desks, however, there's only the vaguest hints of shapes under the thick layers of dust. Sasha's notebook, the one with the Monet painting on it. One of Tim's (no longer) loud shirts hanging over the back of the chair. A thick mug with a cute cartoon cat on it, overturned. ]

From:

eyediot

[He stares at the scene, hand still gripping the doorknob and tightening as he takes it all in.]

I see. That's what this is, then.

[he doesn't fully understand it, but he can see the general shape of it.]

What do you want me to do here?

From:

curriculum_fictae

Here.

[ The voice is insistent, leaning down close to Jon's ear. ]

See. Me.

From:

eyediot

[The whisper gives his whole body a shiver, and he twists to see the soul speaking to him again.]

I'd like to try, but you do disappear when I look.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ As before, the figure is only there for a moment: tall and broad, with gleaming spectacles. This time, there's a suggestion of a jumper, a faint sense of solidity to his body. And then - as before, he dissipates.

Behind Jon, at the desk, there's the sound of ruffling papers. A mug rattling against the wood. ]

Try - try - look -

[ He pleads, a little stronger now. A hint of masculinity to his voice. ]

From:

eyediot

[There's the start of a pang of ache in him as the idea settles in his mind. A hope he'd given up on ages ago (months? weeks? years?) when he watched what remained of Peter Lukas disappeared before him.

But it can't be.]

How... are you here? Are you a memory?

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Silence for a moment, followed by the soft noise of someone settling heavily into a chair. The mug stops rattling abruptly.

He can't respond in the way he wants with those words exactly; he has to struggle to create even a short one on his own. ]

No.

[ Another rustle of papers as if a hand were waving across the little cluster of desks. ]

Memory here.

From:

eyediot

Memory here.. What-

[He doesn't really understand this. A real fault of the Beholder, really, not being able to understand. But he notes everything, tries to look harder, even as he feels the start of a sharp pain in his temple around his eyes. Always the Lonely, this. Almost as bad as the Dark.]

I'm trying.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Perhaps worse in some ways, given the hints of memory remaining vs.the Dark being all-consuming as an opposite. There's just enough to be tantalizing without providing a full picture.

As he Looks, Jon gets a brief glimpse of a honeycomb of different rooms, all dilapidated and all connected to one another. Some pitfalls too, which will gladly swallow him up if he wanders too far. And ... at the centre, something fragmented, with all the pieces scattered around it.

The figure manages enough solidity to grip Jon's shoulder. ]

Here. [ Another struggle to form words. ] Jon.

From:

eyediot

[When he feels the grip on his shoulder, he lets his vision go with a gasp. He's powerful, but still getting used to doing this in other domains so vehemently opposite his own. It hurts. The hand on his shoulder is like an icy vice.]

You- [ No... It can't be. His voice sounds very small when he finally finds it again.] Martin?

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ It sure is. Ice sinks into his shoulder at even that slight touch, creeping up his neck. Not pleasant in the slightest.

But the voice behind him strengthens, almost seeming to laugh with relief. ]

Martin. [ Or is it a sob? ] Martin.

From:

eyediot

[Jon moves instantly, reaching his scarred hand to Martin's arm? Elbow? The appendage gripping at him, leaning in a bit more earnestly.]

I see you. I'm here, Martin.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ As long as Jon doesn't look, he can grasp the figure's arm well enough. He's miserably cold and heavy, though. ]

I'm here.

[ A faint, frigid kiss is pressed to Jon's hair. ]

I'm Martin.

From:

eyediot

[How long has it been since he's had tears in his eyes?

He'd thought Martin lost. Gone forever in the void Peter had made and swept him away to. He had searched for months in that forsaken place, drifted himself before finding himself again. He'd given up.

He shouldn't have. Jon's eyes are wide hearing that. If this is real...]

Are you real? Is that really you?

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Cold fingers find his face, touching delicately along his cheekbones. It's still miserably cold, but that weight and solidity is growing by the second. ]

Real. Really real.

[ A pause; he's hesitating, struggling to form words on his own. He feels just barely solid enough to manage a sentence. ]

In - pieces.

From:

eyediot

[He keeps watching that, feeling it. Tries not to freeze himself when he feels those ghostly fingertips brush against the green scars but Martin couldn't know, he had no way of knowing.]

Then. I'll help you put the pieces together. I'm here.

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Sorry, Jon. He can't help it at all. Not in this state.

For a moment, there's only the sound of soft, ragged breathing. ]

I'm - one. Piece. Not ... together.

From:

eyediot

Not together.

In the other rooms then? Should I see them? Or focus here?

[He picked up what Martin was doing at least. Giving him more words to use should help communications.]

From:

curriculum_fictae

[ Martin nods at that, indeed quite relieved that Jon's giving him the right words here. His voice becomes firmer when he doesn't have to create them himself. ]

Other rooms. Focus - them.

[ As delighted as this fragment is to have Jon, the work is not done yet. ]

From:

eyediot

[He nods, closing his eyes. Leave this one here and go see he others then. Of course.]

All right. I'll go get them. We'll get you back together, Martin.

From:

curriculum_fictae

Martin...

[ Another faint kiss is pressed to Jon's head, alongside the faint sensation of ice landing in his hair. ]

Martin is ... there. In the centre.