hadriel_logs | Playing 20 Questions [Closed + Open!]

[Hayden has no reason or business to really be in the clinic right now, other than that he's trying to familiarize himself with the way the city is laid out. The better he knows the place, the better he can portal himself from one part of it to another without messing up. But here he is anyway...just kind of staring up at Michael in that blank way that kids sometimes do for some reason. It's a little unsettling.]

Hello, Mister!

[He raises one hand and waves. He doesn't need to wave, really, since he's right there, but he's waving anyway.]

[Michael just had the good(?) fortune of being the one passing the door when Hayden showed up. He's not sure if this kid needs anything, or if he's hurt, or... what... and to be honest it's starting to creep him out. He's about to ask something or possibly wave his hand in front of the kid's face when he suddenly he talks.]

Uh. Hey. Are you... okay?

[Also are those horns? Cool, fantastic.]

I am A-OK!

[Hayden blinks, and suddenly he's looking more lively again, his mouth spreading open in a wide smile.]

I haven't been here before! I wanted to see! I'm Hayden! Hello!

[Okay good because that was hella unsettling.]

Right, uh. Michael. And this is... the clinic?

[He sort of helplessly gestures to the building as a whole.]

The Clinic!

[Hayden takes a deep breath. He's...trying to...breathe in that sweet sweet healing air?]

This is where people come to fix themselves when they're broken, isn't it? Wow! Wow wow! Are you a healer? Is it fun? Tell me more!

[Okay so maybe this kid is from one of the weird ye olde tymes worlds? That would make this make more sense.]

Well, it's where people come to get fixed if they're hurt, yeah. [Close enough.] I'm not a healer, I don't like, do magic or anything. But I can treat relatively minor injuries?

[Impressive???]

[Each word coming out of Michael's mouth is making Hayden more excited. He's literally bouncing on his feet now.]

That's amazing! I want to see! I want to watch a miracle happen!

[That doesn't make sense, Hayden, but okay.]

[ Rose is what the clinic might affectionately refer to as a 'frequent flier.' It's not that she means to get injured, really, it's just- She doesn't have a lot of regard for her well-being. It's fine. The woman knows her limits. Unfortunately, she tends to reach those more often than not. Especially lately, as she's testing the levels of her regained strength now that she's eating again.

It's been... good for her, actually. She hasn't succumbed to the same sort of cravings she did in Haven. Maybe she'd been worried about nothing? It's probably still a little too early to tell though so she doesn't think too much about it. Instead, she thinks about harassing the clinic staff. As she often does. It's become a bit of pastime, even, that no one seems to appreciate but her. ]

Yo. Yo, dude, [ whispersays Rose, tossing a cotton ball at Michael wherever he's sitting. ] What's been up with you?

Well... Nobody needs any first-aid at the moment. So there's not really anything to show.

[Did he miss the part where Michael said he wasn't magic?]

[Michael is... distracted. Turns out that silence in your head after over a year of nonstop clamor is kind of deafening, actually. Add to that the sinking realization that he's killed someone and all of the self-loathing that goes along with it, and you've got a recipe for being a complete zombie at work.

Which sucks, because he was hoping to use work as a distraction.

The closest he can come is by doing copious amounts of organizing and logging. Dumb, boring clerical stuff that people like Kate normally take care of. This is what he's actively engaged in, sitting at a desk in the back, when Rose shows up to throw cotton balls at him. He flinches as one bounces off the top of his head and gets stuck behind his glasses. Cool.

As he reaches to pry it out, he glances up at his "attacker".]

Hey. Uh. Not... much... [He's unfortunately kind of a shitty liar.] What, uh, what about you?

[ It is a strange sensation, isn't it? All the noise in your head suddenly quieted. For Rose, it's not quite gone but decidedly less noisy. It's still left her a little uncertain, a little unsure about going forward.

As least beyond throwing cotton balls at Michael. She's still going to keep doing that, actually, because it's hilarious. ]

Dude, don't fib a fibber, [ she answers, immediately calling him out on his bullshit. Look, he knows she eats people. There's a level of trust here already not a lot of people in the cave have. ] You don't gotta' tell me, but like... I'm here to listen if you want to.

As for me, I've got a deal going with Hope. He's getting me food and no one's having to get hurt for it, so. Calling that a win for now.

[Michael swats a cotton ball out of the air, though most of them end up either on the desk or bouncing off his shoulders. Some of them sail right over him and end up on the floor. He'll just... get it later...]

That's... good, yeah. About the food. I'm glad that worked out. I noticed you've been in here a lot more lately, though?

[Part of him wants to stop dodging the question. He's already told a couple of people, and Rose knows more than most about his situation. The guilt's starting to eat him, and when that happens, he has to sit on his hands so he doesn't tell as many people as possible. It's not just that he wants to admit it, it's that he wants people to tell him that he's a fucking monster, because that's what he deserves. They shouldn't trust him, or confide in him, or even talk to him, they should know.

But as much as he wants to just blurt it, it's gonna take a little working up first.]

[It's the middle of the night, and Hadriel's dark. In Spire 4, mostly everyone seems to be asleep, or if not, then at least locked away in their apartments. It's quiet, which is a good thing, because it means Harlan's more likely to hear the very hesitant knocking on his door.

Michael knows he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't tell anyone, he shouldn't put this on anyone. Least of all Harlan. But he's scared and exhausted and angry and he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't trust himself alone, and if he's being honest, he doesn't want to be alone.

He's already done one horrible thing tonight. Why not another one?]

[It's not the knocking, but the quiet ping of his Alarm spell that wakes Harlan up. He lays in bed for a moment, not immediately sure why he's awake, but eventually it all clicks into place. Right. The door. Wait, the door? What the fuck?

He glances at his phone, squinting at the screen's sudden burst of light. No messages, and it's ass o'clock. Which means that, whatever this is, it's bad. Someone's hurt, probably, or maybe dead. Someone on the Null hitlist. One of his friends. Fuck.

As he makes his way through the apartment, he throws out a quick Detect Thoughts to take inventory. Okay, Hayden's asleep, and he can just barely sense Kyna in her apartment a couple floors up. Michael's around too, but he's not where he should be, and he's not sleeping.

Oh.

...Oh.

He pulls open the door, still squinting at the influx of light but considerably more awake than he was a moment ago. But, okay, Michael is not slathered in blood. That's a relief. He looks okay, all things considered, but... Something's wrong, and he has a feeling he knows what it is.

So.]

Coffee or hot chocolate? I have both. Mixing the two is also an option. [That's what he's gonna do.]

[Michael shifts uncomfortably, waiting. Maybe Harlan didn't hear. Should he knock louder? He doesn't want anyone else to hear. He crosses his arms and hunches his shoulders.

He should leave. If Harlan does come to the door, he's going to ask him what happened, and Michael's going to tell him, and all that shit about Harlan getting it is going to go right out the window. Yeah, Harlan gets the urge to kill. He gets the fucked up thoughts, the constant attempts to talk himself down. But he's never done it before. He's stronger than Michael, he's never given in. This is the one thing that truly separates them.

So basically, he's preparing himself for the worst. The last thing he's preparing himself for is a question about hot drinks. It takes him so off guard he has to stand there a second, blinking blearily into Harlan's apartment.

It's like he knew already. And instead of that awkward, fearful, I-wish-you-hadn't-come-to-me interaction he was expecting, he's getting an open invitation.

God, he's so tired.]

Coffee. Definitely.

[ Or someone else can. Rose won't be, which is probably why she seems so unconcerned with causing a mess. She's not the most considerate patient in the world. ]

Yeah, I guess. [ As if she hadn't noticed herself. She has. There's the temptation to leave it at that, but- Honesty. She'd promised. She's always trying, even when she backslides and makes a huge fucking mess of everything.

The cotton balls stop. ] Because I wasn't eating, I. I lost my powers. Like, my ice manipulation and speed and strength and stuff. So now that I'm eating again I'm testing how fast it's coming back. Against the monsters in the tunnels. It's, uh. It hasn't been going the best for me but it's giving me an idea.

[Michael's worked at the clinic for a while now but its only more recently that Rosen really pays him much mind. Notoriously introverted, it tends to take a lot for someone to really be on Lee's radar, and well, a shared dream in a psychiatric prison will do it.

Particularly given the fact that Michael hadn't seem entirely unfamiliar with that arrangement.

But not generally the smoothest at opening new conversations with people he doesn't know well, he's not about to just pop over and ask. Instead he waits for an opening, then sidles over to Michael holding out a fresh mug of coffee]

You probably need it.

[Its a safe assumption in the clinic 99% of the time]

[Both it is. Michael looks like he could use some chocolate. He waves Michael inside and heads off to the kitchen to get the coffee started. On his way, he gestures at Hayden's door.]

Hayden's asleep, so keep your voice down. [Which Harlan is bad at, so Message it is.

He has questions, of course. Like a thousand of them even though he has yet to find out what's up. But Michael doesn't need that shit right now. He does his best to stay mellow even though he spends too much time sifting through coffee filters, counting the thin sheets with his thumb. He'll ask what's wrong soon. Soon, but not yet. Maybe Michael will offer, or at the very least, he probably doesn't want Harlan jumping down his throat right now. Coffee first. That's a good benchmark.]

[Michael rubs the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Why do the people he knows keep doing things that'll likely get themselves killed? Only he's allowed to do that.]

Well I'm glad it's coming back, but, isn't there maybe an easier way to test that?

[Whatever, like he has any room to judge.

He shifts in his chair, fidgeting, tapping his fingers on the desk. It's not that he's feeling energetic; he's actually pretty tired still. He glances around, making sure nobody else is here. Or at least not in the room.]

[Michael thinks he should probably feel insulted by that, but he isn't. He knows he looks like hell lately, and he's an insomniac even on better days, so it's a fair assessment. Yeah, he does need it.]

Uh, thanks.

[The weird thing is that it's Dr. Rosen doing the coffee-gifting. He's interacted with the guy only a few times since he came to work at the clinic, and they haven't exactly gotten along beautifully. So what gives?

Michael takes the cup, maybe a little suspiciously, not sure what else to say.]

[The Message catches Michael off-guard for a second, but it's Harlan's voice, so it doesn't actually worry him. Probably magic or something? It's just weird to have another voice in his head, especially in the silent void left behind by the Visitor's screeching. He remembers that when Philip tried to talk to him like this, he could barely hear it over the animal noises.

He follows Harlan quietly to the kitchen, then stands awkwardly in the doorway, arms still wrapped around himself. He doesn't know where to start, or how. Or if he even should yet. Maybe he should wait until they've got coffee?]

Should we... take this somewhere else? [He whispers it.] So we don't wake him up.

[He glances at Hayden's door. That kid can sleep through anything, but still, they shouldn't risk it. Michael's apartment might be better, seeing as he lives alone, but, well, Michael didn't call him and ask him to come over. He showed up here.

So once the coffee's ready, he hands Michael a mug (and a packet of hot chocolate, just sayin).] Yeah. We can talk in my room.

[Despite having been in Hadriel a couple of months now, and having lived in this apartment for a few weeks, his bedroom barely looks lived in. The only clue is the unmade bed and his phone still charging on the nightstand. He's never been great at decorating. Or making a mess.

Harlan closes the door behind them, then sits on the edge of the bed and sips at his coffee. He shoots Michael a look with the tiniest hint of expectation. Your move.]

[Michael's never thought to mix coffee and hot chocolate before, and he kind of thought Harlan was kidding about that, but apparently not. It's a good idea, and on a normal day, he'd probably be kind of excited about it. As it is, he just takes a grateful swig of caffeine before dumping the packet in unceremoniously. He follows Harlan to his room like a zombie. Clearly, it hasn't kicked in yet.

Nothing kicks in until they're actually in the room. Oh. He's never been in Harlan's bedroom before.

Honestly, their rooms are pretty similar, in that they could be anybody's rooms. The only difference is that Michael's has a couple of shirts on the floor. It's habit, he thinks, from living with the background worry that any day he'll have to pack up and leave, that everything is probably temporary. Only there's no packing up and leaving in Hadriel, for better or worse. He's stuck with this, he can't run from it.

Harlan takes the bed, and Michael sort of wants to sit next to him, but he also feels like he needs some distance. He sits on the edge of Harlan's dresser instead, holding the mug in both hands.

This is stupid. Why did he come here? He doesn't want to talk about this but if he doesn't he thinks it might eat him alive.]

I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't put this on you, but I needed to tell someone, and I didn't know who else to go to. [He swallows, staring pointedly down into the coffee/hot chocolate amalgamation.]

I couldn't- [How does he say this part? I couldn't take it anymore? I couldn't stop it? I didn't want to. I let it happen. I killed somebody. Again. He breaks off, starts over.]

It was the guy who tried to kill Atem.

[Harlan has never in his life joked about chocolate.

It does make him a little nervous, having another person in his room like this, especially this late at night. It's intimate. He's suddenly aware that he's just wearing some sweats and a t-shirt. Usually he'd be hyper aware of that sort of thing, so it's a mark of how close he and Michael have gotten that he hasn't noticed until now. The constant sleeves are more of a guard against contact than his being self conscious, anyway. Has Michael ever seen his arms? He's not sure. Oh, but Michael has seen his legs. That's... Well. Embarrassing.

He's still sleepy too, and the bed isn't helping. He wants to crawl back in and say fuck it, we'll deal with this in the morning. Michael looks like he could use some sleep.

Michael could even stay, if he wanted to. The thought materializes out of nowhere and catches Harlan a little by surprise, but he dismisses it quickly enough. Partially because he's gone and flustered himself, and partially because that would never work. Sounds nice in theory, but in practice...

And anyway, Michael's chosen to awkwardly balance on the dresser instead of sitting next to him. He tries not to read too much into it. He reads too much into it.

Right. They're here to talk about murder.]

Don't apologize. I get it, trust me. [Allies for this sort of thing are few and far between.] I don't mind.

[But, the part about Atem catches him off guard.] Yukari? Why him?

[In the space between his words and Harlan's, it starts to dawn on Michael that this is really happening. He's here, and he's telling someone, out loud, with words, what he just did. This is a first, and he barely even thought it through. He had the idea that he should tell someone, and then immediately that someone was Harlan. He doesn't know what that is, but it's not nothing.

He doesn't have much time to dwell on it.

His emotions are pretty unstable pretty much all of the time, but right now, they're downright volatile. He feels vulnerable, and sick, and angry, and miserable all at once, and his brain can't settle on one or another, flipping between them at random. Something about Harlan's words spikes his adrenaline. It pisses him off.]

You should mind. And you don't get it. You can't. [He's gripping the cup so hard he thinks he might break it.] I was fine, I had it handled. A year and three months. And then this stupid motherfucker. He didn't even kill anybody, he just wanted to, but it was good enough. God, I didn't even try that hard, I found out about this less than a week ago.

[Now that the words are coming, they won't stop. His hands are shaking. Some of the coffee spills over, but the pain doesn't register.]

I fucked up. And I'm going to keep fucking up. Over and over. This is never gonna end. [Fuck.] This is never gonna end.

[Michael stops long enough to try and catch his breath. He puts the mug down so he can wipe at his face. God, why did he say all of that? He wants to disappear. Why did he come here? He shouldn't have come here. But he doesn't know what he'd do if he hadn't.]

I'm sorry.

Playing 20 Questions [Closed + Open!]

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cw: mentions of fantasy cannibalism

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CLOSED TO HARLAN also CW: MURDER; backdated to the 11th

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1 and 2 technically.

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