jmart corruption au

[eyediot]

Corruption JMart au for Rho

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[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.

[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.]

[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. ]

[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.

[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.

[eyediot]

In the centre...

Is there a route I should take? A specific way to go? I'll find you as long as I can find the way.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ A ghostly hand reaches past Jon's head, pointing straight ahead at the door labeled Head Archivist. ]

Take a specific route.

[eyediot]

[His eyes follow that line. Once he sees the path, he sighs a bit.]

Of course.

Martin- I'll fix this. I promise. I'll take you with me this time.

[curriculum_fictae]

Home...

[ He sounds a bit wistful at that. What a lovely thought. He doubts it will actually happen, though. ]

[eyediot]

[Home is... a bit out of anyone's reach at this point. But jon only nods and starts making his way to the door marked for his title.

It's a herculean effort to turn the knob and open it.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ The presence behind him fades, but there is a sense of rightness behind Jon. Everything in its place here, whatever that means.

Despite the name on the door, it leads into the Archive panic room, where a cot has been laid out. A blanket covers a person-sized lump there; it's frozen solid to both the cot and the shape underneath it. ]

[eyediot]

Oh.

[Well. That isn't great either. The cold is seeping into his bones again as he steps further in to approach the cot.]

I guess you probably can't hear me. But I'm here, and I'm- going to start trying to lift the blanket. [Nevermind his own fingertips are cold as he tries to grip the frozen fabric and tug.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Sorry Jon. Everything in here is miserably frigid.

As he lifts the blanket, he'll see that the outline underneath is familiar, but ... it's filled with frigid static. Only a small fragment of his body seems a bit more solid: the hand that fumbles for Jon's. ]

Who --

[eyediot]

[Jon almost instinctively jerks his hand away from the grab-

Then he remembers where he is. Who he's trying to save and lets the hand take his.]

It's the Archivist. I'm here, Martin.

[curriculum_fictae]

Martin...

[ He says the name distantly, like it means nothing to him. Who is Martin? Clearly not him.

But his hand clings to Jon's. ]

Archivist. I - remember an archivist.

[eyediot]

[Jon nods, letting him grip.]

That's right. That's me. You're Martin.

[Not 'were'. He still is, if Jon has anything to do with it.]

I found you.

[curriculum_fictae]

You found me. "Martin."

[ He sounds quite skeptical of all of that. ]

I don't know who that is.

[eyediot]

Hm. A part of you, anyhow.

[No, of course it couldn't be this easy. Jon keeps watching him for now, trying to see through the frost and ice.]

You are my assistant. And my friend. And someone very dear to me.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ The cold nips at him, pushing back, but he is the Archivist and this is HIS hell, thank you very much.

Jon can See that he's at the centre now. As much as Martin has a true form, this is it. Surrounding him are all the little shattered rooms, each with a fragment of him that could maybe be drawn back. The end result would still not be perfect, but perhaps the shape could be the same.

The figure stills a bit, his hand still gripping Jon's. Thinking hard. The first fragment remembers that well. Yes. he remembers... ]

I'm your assistant. Yes. The Archivist should have his Assistant.

[eyediot]

[He nods, something settling easily into the pattern of his thoughts. His Assistant.]

That's right. That's who you are. My Assistant.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ A moment of hesitation. ]

Then what am I doing in this bloody place? How long have you been without one?

[eyediot]

I think you may have gotten a bit lost.

It's... been some time. But I would be happy to take you back with me.

[curriculum_fictae]

Back ... where?

[ He lifts his head, trying to see past the walls of this room. ]

[eyediot]

The world. Everything outside of this room.

[Whether he can see past the walls on his own or not, Jon will show him. The apocalypse. The pain, the quiet bits in the cemetery and bone garden. The trenches and large overgrown roots. All of it. But coming from the Archivist, there's a peacefulness to it. A sense of not only belonging, but of rightness. This is how it's supposed to be.]

I would be grateful if you were to come with me.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ It's awful. It's terrible. It's ...

Exactly right? No. Not quite. There's something missing from this picture. ]

... You need an Assistant. Yes. I'll come.