[OPEN] The world is spinning endlessly

[spaghettification]

Who: Siebren and friends
What: October Shenanigans
When:...October? Possibly also November
Where: Siebren's home, the
Warning(s): Potential cannibalism mentions, unreality, mental unwellness, memory manipulation (self-inflicted), more in comment titles

1. This is the sound of energy [Gala Aftermath]
You can't believe how easy it is. You just have to go... a little crazy. And then, suddenly, it all makes sense, and everything you do turns to gold.
He calls into work the morning after the gala. And a couple more days beyond that. In that time, he is
metamorphosing
assimilating
unpacking
digesting everything that occurred that night. He stays at home, alone, trying to avoid everyone and everything.

much. It's too
The fragments of past that he's avoided for their sharpness rotate in him mind, turning their points toward him, crystal shards of time that threaten him. And yet, some part of him reaches out with Pandoran curiosity, like Sleeping Beauty toward the spindle. What he pricks isn't a finger, but he feels the pain just as instantly. And yet, and yet...

too much. It's
There it is, the multiple choice past solidifying in fractals, like frost spidering across a windowpane. Siebren has no way of knowing whether this is a correct past, but it is now his, memories feeling more stable than they have in years. Some things are lost, others are fake, but the end result is more real than anything he's been able to grasp before.

For three days, anyone approaching Siebren's home for any reason may hear, even from outside the building, the sounds of someone having a Bad Time™, with pained screams or furniture being thrown against walls as his gravitational powers pulse and fluctuate. For three days, he struggles.

And then, there is silence.


Traveling through the galaxy [The Library; CW vertigo]
Siebren returns to work. Nothing is wrong. He is fine. Can't you see how fine he is?

Somewhere, a book falls off a table and he flinches. And then, to anyone within a certain distance of him, the floor seems to fall away, in a dizzying cloud of galactic light, just for a moment, before he regains control, glancing around to see if anyone noticed.


Into eternity [Stargazing Night]
A notice goes up on the bulletin board, and letters are issued to penpals with explicit invitations: Crane's Ridge, 9pm on a given night. Bring snacks, drinks, something to sit on. Siebren will have his telescope and star charts.

He's brought some cheese and crackers and apple butter himself, as well, and is floating beside his big brass telescope, dressed in a comfortable sweater. For the moment, he is completely at ease. For the moment, nothing could possibly bother him.

Right?


A One Note Symphony [Wildcard]
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Comments

[stonecoldtop]

George nods along with the explanation, the extra information unnecessary but more than welcome, and takes a deep breath when it's done.

"Then yes, I'm fine," he says, opening his eyes. He reaches out slowly to touch Siebren's cheek, he'll stop if there's any hint the contact would be unwelcome "Are you alright?"

[spaghettification]

He leans into the touch like a stray dog who's sought a warm porch in the rain, and doesn't answer that question for long enough to answer that question.

[stonecoldtop]

Alright, well he can work with that at least.

George rearranges himself on the floor to make space, and without breaking contact with Siebren's cheek opens his other arm in a wordless invitation for a hug.

Times like this he wishes he was made of something softer, but at least the Mask will make him merely boney rather than like trying to hug a rock.

[spaghettification]

Siebren exhales like he's deflating, accepting the silent invitation and folding himself up small against George. Erm, small as his broad-shouldered frame allows.

"I just hit you with a kaleidoscopic dizzy spell. What are you doing comforting me?"

[stonecoldtop]

"That's why I'm comforting you," George answers softly, rubbing Siebren's back, "I was worried about you."

[spaghettification]

"I have not been well, George. And I am still not safe to be around." And yet, he doesn't pull away from the kindness on offer here. He doesn't push George away. He latches on like a comfort-sucking lamprey.

[stonecoldtop]

"I trust that you won't harm me intentionally, and that's what matters"

George holds him tighter, kisses his forehead.

"I would like to help you recover, if I can"

[spaghettification]

"George, this...this isn't a situation where recovery, in the sense of 'going back to normal', is going to be possible."

It hurts to give voice to those words, to be honest with himself. This is almost as deep as his original 'traumatic brain injury', perhaps more so in certain ways. He has been changed irreparably, scarred. While he isn't quite expecting George to just abandon him, he wants to be clear up front that fixing it won't be possible.

"And I don't know what help will look like, here. But that isn't to say I don't appreciate the offer."

[stonecoldtop]

"I know," George says slowly, "and that's not what I meant."

He's not sure he knows the right words for what he did mean though, for all that his work can often be called cathartic or even therapeutic, there's a reason he's not among Spring's healers.

"I meant the short term, for now. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems clear to me that you're seeking comfort, and maybe some reassurance. Aftercare, one might say."

[spaghettification]

"Aftercare." He repeats the word like it's in a foreign language, like he needs to puzzle out the individual parts and make it make sense. But it feels right. It feels correct. Putting words to a need he hasn't been able to voice.

"Yes, that's...yes. I think I may also need to talk, at some point. Everyone has been quick with reassurances, but." A moment of grappling for his own words. He strings them together like beads, like popcorn on a garland, until the thought gels midway through. "Sometimes when people are quick to say I would never hurt anyone, or that I'm going to be okay, it feels like they're patting me on the head, giving me a lollipop and sending me back out on the playground."

[stonecoldtop]

"I know the feeling, and I apologise if I came across that way."

George pauses for a long moment, his hand coming to a still on Siebren's back as he resists the urge to tap while getting his words in order.

"It's an impulse a lot of people have I think, to brush these things away. And reassure themselves in the process. I'm sure it works for some, but it doesn't always. Especially for those of us who are very aware of our capabilities, and while everything is still raw."

[spaghettification]

“‘Raw’ feels like an apt choice of words right now. I feel as though I am not done baking. I had thought I was stable enough to work. Or rather, that it would be better for me to return to work than to continue to worry people, and I could make the appearance of stability happen well enough to do so.”

His already library-hushed voice goes even softer.

“I know there is no one on this island who would lock me up for failing to function. I do know that. Really. But…it’s still a fear I carry, after what happened back on Earth.” He catches himself not using the phrase ‘at home’ and decides not to look directly at that today.

[stonecoldtop]

"It's an understandable fear to hold, and one that will hopefully fade in time, though I'm not sure it will ever truly leave."

George glances around, made hyper aware that they're still in a public space by Siebren getting quieter.

"I don't want to push you if you'd rather not, but would you like to go somewhere more private? Is there somewhere you'll feel safer?"

[spaghettification]

"I'd invite you to my home, but it's currently a mess." For whatever reason, he feels less need to pussyfoot around that fact, with George. "My past few days were chaotic internally and externally."

A moment of thought.

"Is your afternoon free? We could take the trolley out to Crane Ridge."

[stonecoldtop]

It's probably a good thing Siebren's upfront about the state of his home, George and mess really don't mix well.

"Completely free, I'm all yours," he says with a smile, "that sounds lovely."

feel free to elide the trolley ride as much or as little as you want

[spaghettification]

"Let me tell someone I'm leaving early. They know I've had some trouble, so it won't be a problem."

He drifts off to do so, coming back with a little jauntier bob in his float.

"Alright, I am yours, tonight."

[stonecoldtop]

Siebren leaving gives George time to test his footing as he stands up, and verify that yes, the vertigo was only temporary. Part of Siebren's loss of control and not some fun new thing he's going to have to live with.

George smiles as Siebren returns, it's good to see the skip back in his metaphorical step. He offers his hand for Siebren to hold while they head for the trolley, and if they talk during the journey, George keeps to light and inconsequential topics. They can return to the matter at hand when they aren't surrounded by other people.

[spaghettification]

Along the way, Siebren points out landmarks. He clearly rides this route often, and once they reach Crane Ridge the reason becomes clearer. It’s above the tree line, with a clear view of the sky. The terrain is rocky, barren, but there’s a path to be found, up to a small cliff Siebren has claimed for his own.

If George looks close, marks in the rock from the tripod feet of a telescope can be found.

[stonecoldtop]

George makes note of every landmark, listening with rapt attention, and when they reach the cliffside he looks around, taking in the view with nothing short of wonder.

"This is very nice," George says, a clear understatement, "a frequent haunt, I take it?"

[spaghettification]

"Yes. I'd like to invite others out here at night, sometime. To see the moons and stars."

He smiles boyishly, letting that thought warm him for a moment. Not a complete distraction from the matter at hand, but a breath of fresh air.

[stonecoldtop]

George is growing to adore that look, the joyful vulnerability it shows.

"What a lovely idea, it must be even more impressive at night."

[spaghettification]

"It is. This world holds many wonders." A pause, and a small sidelong look. "And horrors."

[stonecoldtop]

"More horrors than wonders it seems at times." He returns that look with something gentle, "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

[spaghettification]

"Yes, but I'd like to be holding your hand or something while I do. If that's alright?"

Even if he's quietly certain he's not going to be able to make eye contact when he gets into it.

[stonecoldtop]

"Of course." Already reaching out for Siebren as he speaks, "Will you be more comfortable if I sit down again?"

Or even lying side by side like they did in the House of Cards, but George doesn't want to flood Siebren with too many options at once.