ring_for_giles | Come Sail Away Inbox

Floating... [ a quick quizzical look ] Quite. [ There's no judgement in his voice, just a recognition of what state Sharky's in. Honestly Giles would be tempted towards similar coping mechanisms himself, if mind altering substances didn't sound like the quickest way to irreparably worsening his condition and losing track of reality permanently. He hasn't even dared touch alcohol since waking up.

Giles smiles softly, and gestures down the path, before leading the way to the cottage and into the sitting room. Soft couches sound far nicer than hard wooden chairs after all, especially given he's not certain either of them are entirely capable of proper fire safety at the moment.

All the while trying desperately to convince himself that this isn't unbearably awkward.

It's not working. ]

[Normally, Sharky would just let his mouth do all the talking and worry about potential awkwardness when it came up. But the only things he thinks he'll talk about are, like... Halloween. October in general. The possessions. And if he lets his mouth run on those subjects, he's gonna say something stupid, or mean, or fucked up, and it's gonna make shit worse, not better.

So he just follows, keeping his hands shoved into his pockets and trying not to matrix faces in the foliage. Trying to remind himself that he's totally been here before, that this is supposed to be the kind of magic he's used to, and that he isn't just having a shitty brain meltdown. It doesn't do much other than keep him quiet.]

[ Upon reaching the sitting room, Giles gestures to one of the couches, a wordless 'please, sit', and takes a seat himself.

There's a longer than comfortable pause before Giles says anything, debating whether to offer to make tea or to just start chipping away at the things that he needs to say, and needs to ask. But he finds he can't bring himself to trust Sharky enough to leave him alone here, which makes the choice unfortunately far easier. ]

I've been told a little of what happened to you in October, but I would like to hear it from you, if you don't mind, Sharky.

[He sorta flops down like his legs have been cut off at the knees. But the cottage is nice, and the longer he's here, the more here he feels.

He doesn't so much as shift at the question, only tipping his head in acknowledgment after a couple of seconds.]

I sorta... fuck, man, it's so fuckin' stupid. I tripped down some fuckin' stairs after my party. I landed on my neck and I was -- well, y'know. Pratt had to fill me in on the rest of it when I got out. Um. Up. ...All I know is that the guy piloting the body around partied all month and then shot a bunch of people at the Halloween party. Then Ava... I think ripped out the heart, or she just phased her fist into it. Either way.

[A beat before he speaks again.] I know from texts and, uh, stuff he left behind, that he got you possessed, too. I... um. I'm really sorry.

[ He nods slowly as Sharky speaks, everything settling into place as he'd been told. The only thing he hadn't known for certain – the only thing that mattered, anyway – was when. No one he'd spoken to had known that, and as much as Giles could piece it together logically, it was better by far to have the words spoken to him. ]

Thank you. It wasn't your fault, but... I think I needed to hear that anyway.

I'm truly sorry that happened to you. I should have realised something was wrong.

[ Now that some clarity can be found, it's time to blame himself for things well and truly out of his control ]

[Sharky groans good-naturedly, tipping his head back against the couch.] Man, you're definitely not allowed to apologize to me. You were being a good friend and that fuckin' jackass took advantage of both of us.

[Nevermind that Sharky doesn't even really blame Pickles anymore. Guy did what he had to, and Sharky doesn't think he'd have been much better if the positions were reversed.]

It fucking sucked, and I'm pretty sure all of us possessed-types are permanently fucked from it, but. Like. [Helpless shrug.] It is what it is, right?

[ And yet Giles still feels the need to apologise and lay blame on himself, because since the beginning over dozens of text messages Sharky had consistently mimicked a style that was only used to establish the correct person had been reached. The one time he didn't, it turned out not to be him, and yet it hadn't registered at all to Giles beyond a vague unsettled feeling he couldn't place. But he gives a non-committal hum that's supposed to come across as agreement anyway. ]

It will take a long time to heal from this, for everyone, and I doubt that it will ever truly go away.

That great yawning empty was... One of the worst things I have ever experienced.

[ Isn't that a happy thought, that it was comparable if not worse than what Arcadia had to offer. ]

Yeah. No wonder they were so quick to get the fuck out. Surprised it didn't happen sooner.

[Maybe it has. Sharky isn't about to go asking; he just wants to make sure it doesn't happen again. Specifically to him, but generally, too. He cannot go back to being Nothing again. He can't.

The fact that Giles had an experience to contend with the Nothing, though -- that freaks him right the fuck out. He doesn't think he can handle there being something worse than that.]

Sure makes sleeping hard to do. Plus, uhhh... stuff feels less real. Oh, and lots of hugging. Physical contact makes it less weird, I guess. That's just what I've noticed, anyway. [From himself, as well as the possessed he's had run-ins with this month.] Is -- Ossie's been keeping an eye on you, right? Not, uhh, not that you need someone watchin' you, just, y'know, it helps.

Dissociation. [ A nod of understanding ] I'd imagine it's a common symptom amongst all of us affected.

[ The noise Giles makes isn't quite a sigh and it isn't quite a huff. He doesn't want to burden Sharky with the details, not when Sharky's dealing with enough problems of his own, but equally he feels the need to provide some explanation of why he hasn't been around, and hasn't reached out. ]

He has been, yes, and while I appreciate the sentiment, it unfortunately is required in my case. Did Oswald tell you anything of my present condition?

[Oh, there's a word for it? Cool. He should probably try to remember that.]

Um, no? He just told me that you'd probably want me to check in on you. [He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.] Why? What's up?

[ Giles spends a long time staring at his hands, collecting his thoughts before he speaks. Flexing his fingers slowly and watching the way skin creases and stretches over his knuckles. ]

Because of what I am, mental strain can take a heavier toll than it might for others. I have... Lapses. I find myself places with no memory of how I got there, I go to do something and find it already done. I forget myself, I forget Oswald, and I forget others too. And on some rare but notable occasions, I believe myself to be back in the very place that formed me into this.

If I did not have Oswald to check on me regularly, to bring me back to the present, I fear I might forever lose what grip I have left on reality. Even now, when I feel whole and grounded, I cannot be certain that we have not already had this conversation, or that the events in question did not happen months or years ago rather than the few weeks I remember.

[ He looks up, finally meeting Sharky's eyes now the hardest part of the explanation, the part where he admits to his weakness, is done with. ]

To be clear, I do not tell you this to worry you, or make you feel bad for me, I will heal with time. It is an unfortunate but relatively well documented condition among my people. I am telling you because I do still care about you, Sharky, and I want you to understand what's happening if I seem disoriented, or if I speak of things that never happened or are months in the past as if they were only recent.

[ and then, softer ] Or if it appears I do not recognise you at all.

Edited 2022-11-30 12:27 (UTC)

[To be honest, it doesn't sound all that different from what went down with his grandma, or the particularly Bliss-addled survivors. It's fucked, and sad, and he really wishes it weren't the case, but at least he kinda knows how to handle this.]

Okay. Yeah. [He bobs his head a few times.] I get you. That really fuckin' sucks, man. But, ummm. I'm glad you told me? Because that means I can actually help. I'm not much of it right now or anythin', but...

[Well, he's almost out of edibles and he's starting to feel like that might be a good thing.]

I don't get it, get it, but I do get it. Get it? [Hehehehe, okay, that's just a lot of nonsense, but it's funny.] For real. Tell me what I can do to like, help when you need me to, and I'll try to remember.

[ There's a huff of a laugh at the somehow entirely comprehensible string of repeated words, followed by a prolonged silence as he thinks. ]

In truth, I'm not entirely sure, it has largely been a matter of trial and error I think. Oswald is remarkably good at bringing me round, but that may just be a result of our having known eachother for so long and through so much. You're welcome to ask him for more advice, if you'd like though, I'll try to remember to tell him he should answer any of your questions.

[ Giles is back to analysing his hands, tracking restless movement with his eyes as he puts things in what order he can ]

I believe the main thing is patience. Gentle reminders, assurance of what is real. Something physical to ground against. But, ask before you touch me. I can't be certain of how I may react otherwise and I don't want to hurt you, even accidentally.

And... If I'm somewhere public, I would greatly appreciate if you tried to direct me to a more private location. I'd rather as few people see me like that as possible. [ sigh ] I've been avoiding leaving here for that reason.

[Okay, yeah, sure. All of that sounds doable, and honestly not too far off from what he did for Pratt back at the diner. And despite how many times he's wanted to just hug the shit out of that dumbass, he's managed to refrain, so like... he should be good here, too.]

Okay. Ask before touching, make sure you're somewhere private, be patient. [He ticks them off on his fingers, just to show Giles that it isn't a big ask. Like, three super simple things, two of which are already sorta basic common decency? Easy.]

I'm not gonna lie, you haven't missed shit out on the boat. Most of us got high for a couple days, then the rest of the time we've just been veggin'. Everyone's lickin' their wounds, y'know? But, uh. If you wanna get out of here sometime and Ossie's busy, you can hit me up. We... all've had trouble leavin' our rooms. [He's thinking of Crabb, standing semi-paralyzed in the doorway next to his, debating on if leaving the cabin was worth the stress.] Sometimes it helps to have someone go with ya.

No pressure, though. Let's be real, it's a lot nicer in here.

Thank you, Sharky, I may well take you up on that. It does me no good to remain isolated, no matter how much easier it may seem.

[ Giles stops for a moment, feline eyes boring into Sharky for maybe just a hint longer than would be strictly comfortable before he smiles softly ]

I have missed the pleasure of your company.

When I have had the mind the mind to comprehend such things, that is

[Sharky knows first-hand how squirrelly things get when you're alone too long, and as nice as the cottage is, it's still essentially a very fancy doomsday bunker. Limited space, resources, and very little socialization to go around -- it's the perfect recipe for going lightly nuts.

The stare and comment earn a sort of awkward, bashful grin, as he scrubs the back of his head. He -- really wants to say the same thing. It'd be really easy to do, just, "yeah, me too," and see what happens. He could probably handle it. He'd probably even like it.

But the grin falters and he sorta just. Bobs his head.]

Y-yeah. Um. [Now it's his laugh that's awkward, like admitting a guilty secret.] Not gonna lie, man, I think somethin' got like. Hella broke coming back 'cos I'm. Just. Not... feeling it. With anyone. At all. [That feels terrible to admit. It feels... gross, not being horned up all the time. Which is weird. It should be the other way around, right?] I was literally sitting across from Crichton the hot tub, and I got more sauced over his fuckin' future guns than [mimes out the shapeliest of butts] and it's like. WHAT. The fuck. Is wrong with me.

[ Giles raises his hands just slightly from his lap, somewhere between defensive and placating. ]

No, no I understand. I didn't- [ frowns, hums, starts again ] I am in much the same place at the moment, I must admit. I meant nothing more than this, that I have missed your presence and conversation.

[ Because there have been plenty instances where they've talked and existed in eachother's company without it going anywhere. Like after the island, and...
Well, maybe that was it, but that's hardly the point here. And it's also not something Giles is going to think too hard about. ]

[He huffs a much more relieved laugh, slumping into his seat.] Sick, okay. Uh, not that it's a good thing, but -- ugh. You know what I mean.

[It was probably kind of a dick move to assume Giles was putting the moves on him, now that he thinks about it, but that's sorta how it normally goes, right? Texting is for hanging out, hanging out is for everything else.]

TBH, I feel the same way tho. Like. Not to be all mushy or whatever but it sucks not texting you all the time and stuff. I basically think of you whenever I think about letters and fire, and, uhh, I sorta think about fire a lot.

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