[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]

"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.

[spaghettification]

Siebren thinks about the question for a moment, actually takes the time to check in about what he wants. George makes it easy for him to do that, being so communicative.

"It is going to be easier for me to talk about this without eye contact. If you'd be comfortable holding me from behind, that might be a good way to handle it. I want you close, George, I just can't handle being looked at too directly."

[stonecoldtop]

George nods, "I can do that."

He removes his jacket as he settles down — that much is for his own comfort, it's easier not to lock in place if he's not in his full suit — and makes space for Siebren when he's ready. It'll likely take a little shuffling for them to find something that works given the difference in height and build, but they'll get there.

[spaghettification]

It’s like jigsaw pieces, figuring out how they fit together, but eventually they’re both comfortable.

“The gala. The end of the gala, what do you remember of it?”

[stonecoldtop]

"Not a lot, if I'm honest. I remember the demons, and the masks that seemed to affect everyone differently, but things get hazy for me after that."

He's not sure he could even say what his mask did, but that's not the focus here, so George isn't terribly concerned with trying to remember.

[spaghettification]

“The demons. Not just Mendel, but his attendants. His sidekicks. His magician’s assistants. The white clown decided to mock me. She was…involved in fucking with memories.”

Normally, he wouldn’t swear in front of George. It’s so unrefined. But it’s the only word appropriate here.

[stonecoldtop]

"That must have been particularly unpleasant to deal with"

CW: cannibalism. Or at least eating things that was once people.

[spaghettification]

“It was. Until I killed her. And then ate her body as it dissolved into a pile of cheap white chocolate and artificial cherry syrup.”

And this is why he didn’t want eye contact. He’s already flinching in anticipation of a response.

“I won’t say I didn’t know what I was doing. But I was not in my right mind at the time.”

CW: more explicit cannibalism, flashbacks, selfloathing, arcadia stuff

[stonecoldtop]

George feels that flinch, and holds Siebren a little closer in response.

It's going to take a little while for him to formulate a response, given his perspective is skewed on this. His instinct is just to ask how she tasted.

How often did you watch the cooks preparing a meal just for the thrill of it? How many times did you stop one of your footmen to take a taste for yourself, before you allowed them to continue upstairs with a dish made from someone they knew?

How many people did you send to the slaughter yourself, Elsworth?

"That's... A good way to be sure she was dead."

He frowns, that needed a lot more work. He's suddenly glad Siebren can't see his face either.

[spaghettification]

"I didn't have that in consideration at the time. I just...the anger I had at her, for her teasing, for her domain being so close to home, I wanted to conquer her completely."

He sighs, melting into George a little more.

"And now I am dealing with the consequences of that conquest."

[stonecoldtop]

"I understand," George says, because he does, he can easily place himself in Siebren's shoes for that.

As Seibren melts back against him, George nestles his gently against his back, humming in thought.

"Consequences such as what happened in the library?" There's no judgement to the question, just him trying to build the full picture in his mind.

[spaghettification]

“Exactly so. Or…spending three days at home while my past rebuilt itself like someone had thrown pieces of three different jigsaw puzzles in a box and told me to solve it. I still don’t have a firm grasp on my childhood at this point.”

It’s only a mild exaggeration.

“Everything on this island is relatively intact, though. I think.”

[stonecoldtop]

"That must be disorienting," George says, and tries to pick his next words carefully. He doesn't want to inadvertently give Siebren anything more to worry about — such as the longevity of situation — if he hasn't already thought of it himself. Ultimately, George settles simply on "Does it worry you?"