Newt Geiszler | Pacific Rim (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
groupiedrifter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ximilialog2021-11-06 04:09 pm
groupiedrifter) wrote in ximilialog2021-11-06 04:09 pm
[OPEN] MISSION 3.1 | Dream a Little Dream of Me
CHARACTERS: Newton Geiszler and YOU!
LOCATION: Newt's Dreamscape / Memories
DATE: During Mission 3: The Sleeper
CONTENT: Newton's fallen into a deep sleep; in this log are multiple memory prompts people may venture into, to be updated as they're completed!
WARNINGS: Basic warnings include: possible violence/blood, monster imagery, domestic and emotional abuse (including a toxic relationship memory), and removal of bodily autonomy.
[OOC NOTES: If you would like to have multuple memories (i.e. one memory segways into another), feel free to let me know via PM, through the subject line, or at my plurk,![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
simpledog! If none of these speak to you in particular, feel free to post a top level with 'WILDCARD' as the subject line, and I'll whip up a randomized memory not on this list. ;)
ALSO — feel free to have your character interject anywhere in the “‘memory”, they absolutely don’t have to wait until the dream prompt is over and can change the flow of the dream at any point they’d like; I just write a lot for each prompt to give lots of meat for ya.]
LOCATION: Newt's Dreamscape / Memories
DATE: During Mission 3: The Sleeper
CONTENT: Newton's fallen into a deep sleep; in this log are multiple memory prompts people may venture into, to be updated as they're completed!
WARNINGS: Basic warnings include: possible violence/blood, monster imagery, domestic and emotional abuse (including a toxic relationship memory), and removal of bodily autonomy.
MEMORY 1: YOU'RE ONLY YOUNG ONCE. 1997.
MEMORY 2: BUT YOU CAN BE IMMATURE FOREVER. 2008.
MEMORY 3: CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTES. 2015.
MEMORY 4: THE BUFFET LINE. 2025.
MEMORY 5: XIMILIA, N̷̥̑Ì̵̱Ĝ̴̩H̵̩͐T̷͈̀T̶͙̂I̸̛̹M̴̤̉E̷̠̾. XXXX.
PERSONAL GOAL: THREE LETTERS YOU'LL NEVER SEND.
MEMORY 2: BUT YOU CAN BE IMMATURE FOREVER. 2008.
MEMORY 3: CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTES. 2015.
MEMORY 4: THE BUFFET LINE. 2025.
MEMORY 5: XIMILIA, N̷̥̑Ì̵̱Ĝ̴̩H̵̩͐T̷͈̀T̶͙̂I̸̛̹M̴̤̉E̷̠̾. XXXX.
PERSONAL GOAL: THREE LETTERS YOU'LL NEVER SEND.
[OOC NOTES: If you would like to have multuple memories (i.e. one memory segways into another), feel free to let me know via PM, through the subject line, or at my plurk,
ALSO — feel free to have your character interject anywhere in the “‘memory”, they absolutely don’t have to wait until the dream prompt is over and can change the flow of the dream at any point they’d like; I just write a lot for each prompt to give lots of meat for ya.]
no subject
[The golden fire that burns across her weapon seems to fascinate them, and one of the tall figures runs a hand across its chin; it's a more human gesture, one not like them, but they are learning very carefully from Newt's memories. They'll be able to perfect his way of being effortlessly soon enough.]
Please. Put that away, it's useless here.
Not unless you want to harm Newton in the process.
... You're very unlike the humans we're used to, though. Those in Newton's universe are hardly capable of anything other than breeding and building obnoxious robots. Such a waste of perfectly good resources on a subpar species.
no subject
[It's not an unreasonable claim- a sleeping mind is certainly more vulnerable to influence than a waking one.
But Sabriel doesn't put the blade away, instead stepping closer, occasionally prodding at the vines with the tip of her sword.]
The question is, to what end are you manipulating him?
[Sabriel's fingers curl around Saraneth's clapper, keeping the bell still- for now..]
no subject
Especially with what happens to injuries in the waking world.
[The vines — clearly something very organic on inspection — shudder at her prods, alive and responsive in the scope of the dream. If she pays enough mind, she'd hear a soft noise of discomfort from Newton's slumped form, alongside a little twitch of his brightly tattooed shoulders. He seems to be rousing, albeit slowly, with a lolling head and flickering eyelids.
... Those vines are looking quite a bit like neurons in a brain, actually. Mutated, glowing unnaturally, but like the pathways of a human mind all the same. They don't expect Sabriel will harm their host further, being friendly with him and all, but they're more than prepared to chase her off now, leaning far over her and Newton's body.]
What a ridiculous question. To what end? Did you forget what you're here for?
no subject
[Still, Sabriel sheaths her blade and stops moving forward, still holding Saraneth by its clapper- she's not sure how much power the bell will hold in the dream- or if it's really Saraneth, and not her dream of it.]
You say he's your 'host'. Does that mean you're inside of him in the waking world?
[Perhaps she should ask Dr. McCoy about anti parasitic treatments.]
no subject
Seems like a no brainer, honestly.
[There's an unmistakable overlay of Newton's voice there, as if they're pulling phrases right from his memories. Vernacular, all being carefully constructed and formed. Strangely enough, the creatures don't seem to mind telling her all of this; they don't seem concerned at all with the possibility of being discovered. Strange, that.]
Correct. Once we've finished rewiring him, you'll be speaking to us more than him.
He's far too volatile to be allowed too much control. You've met him; you can understand.
[... Ah, yes. When you're overwhelming enough that even the aliens in your mind comment on it.]
Let me know if this is okay.
[Sabriel grabs Saraneth's handle with her free hand- and lets it the bell sound.
Saraneth is deep, almost impossibly so for a bell of its size, with a sound that vibrates right down to your bones, somehow echoing despite the lack of walls, seeking do drown out all other sounds as Sabriel steps forward, her will pressing on the creatures like a physical force, her voice melding with Saraneth's song, both redolent with Free magic power.]
Release him!
no subject
[But they do not finish speaking. Instead, they make a terrible noise, something inhuman and sharp and full of offense as Sabriel's power ripples through the room. The sound becomes too much of a nuisance, and it seems it's enough to make them scatter almost too literally into the air like ghosts that lose their shape. It's temporary, but it works well enough. They're gone, leaving Newton to sit with those awful veins pulsing across his folded legs.
But —
Then he shivers and stirs, eyes blinking open with bleary awareness.]
... Sabriel...? [He rubs his hands over his eyes, and then looks at her; you'd think he assumed her a mirage, with a gesture like that. (Is she?) Newt looks tired, for someone who has been sleeping all this time.] How're you here?
no subject
[Sabriel drops to her knees, partially to get a better look at Newt, even as she keeps Saraneth at hand.
That wasn't a proper banishment, and she hadn't been able to bind her will to the creatures before they vanished. But even with her heart still pounding, she's doing her best to stay calm, trying to look over Newt, to understand what's happening to him.]
What- What were those things? And how do I get- those off of you?
no subject
[He swallows, eyes widening with relief when the name leaves his lips.
He laughs tiredly after.]
I haven't been able to say that for months.
[Not that he's consciously aware of it. Oh, god.]
They don't want me to talk about them, so I just... don't. I-I don't even know they're doing it. I have no clue they're in here when I'm awake. [He touches a finger to his temple as he speaks, not quite meeting her gaze.] I — just forget, every time I wake up... They don't ever let me remember.
[Dropping his head again, he shakes it.]
Fuck. Sabriel, I screwed up... I don't know what to do. I screwed up so bad — but what was I supposed to do? If I didn't drift, the mission would've failed, and humans would be toast. What else was there?
[It doesn't occur to him that Sabriel can't just read his mind and know what the hell he's talking about.]
no subject
[And Sabriel feels something cold creep down her spine, as she thinks of the various ways Free magic- and even Charter magic, sometimes- can be used to control people. What Newt's describing is entirely plausible.]
Newt, I think it's better to do something, rather than nothing- even if the cost is great. But we need some way to break their hold over you.
[They'd fled before Saraneth, perhaps Belgaer? But that bell could shatter minds, even as it freed them, and Newt's seems fragile as it is.
Instead, Sabriel tries to work the veins loose with her free hand.]
no subject
We got what we needed to destroy the breach they used to reach our world. B-but I drifted alone the first time — I, I think maybe the lack of stability between me and them, it left me vulnerable to... to getting infected. The link, it never went away; they kept it open, even without the drift technology.
And then the voice came to me, about the regrets. The moment they heard about the orbs, they wanted in, too...!
[He rambles as she tries to pull the veins loose, but they're — they're in his skin.
It's clear every sentence becomes faster and more tightly wound in his chest — more desperate. He's on the cusp of panic all over again as his mind becomes clearer (and therefore more terrified, more frantic) in this dream.]
I don't know what to do. I don't — I can't remember this. Every night it's the same! I just don't remember — augh! [He cries out as she attempts to remove the vines, clamping his hands over his head in pain.] It hurts! Fuck, that hurts...!
[If Sabriel decides to keep trying to remove the veins, she'll find blood welling on his leg where one thin, branching axon pulls a little loose. More than that, it seems the more Newton panics, the more the white, endless space responds. The ground pulses in and out to the sound of Newton's quickened breathing, and the veins thud like a heartbeat against Sabriel's hands.]
She would kill you, you know.
[The detached voices of the precursors speak together, their voices stacked flawlessly over one another's: a true hivemind, swirling with individuals who gave up their individuality.
... Newton looks at Sabriel, uncertainty in his gaze.]
That's what she means, when she says the cost could be great. You're a threat now, and she'll kill you if she can. It's like we told you: when you're a risk to their higher cause, you'll be abandoned to die.
no subject
[Sabriel stops pulling as soon as Newt starts screaming, instead moving to give him a desperate, comforting hug.]
I wouldn't! Newt, I'm going to find a way to get these things out of your head- and keep them out.
[She reaches for Saraneth, tolling the bell again and again, her own will reaching out to the creatures with a vicious strength, commanding them to begone.]
no subject
Maybe Sabriel tolerates him. She's more subdued, more quiet. Maybe she wouldn't mind a little more peace on the station. Maybe she's too polite to admit she's tired of his motormouth. Maybe —
He squeezes his eyes shut. Stop it, stop it, stop it...!]
I don't know.
[Wouldn't that be the right thing, though? If the cost is dying, to get rid of these awful creatures aboard the ship, wouldn't that... be the right choice? Sometimes it's hard to make decisions about the cost of one versus the many, sure, but ultimately... it's for the good of the mission, right? The good of the crew. If he just...]
... I don't want to die, Sabriel. [He trembles in her grasp, when the voices are gone and the silence falls over them again.] I've still got so much to do — I want to go home and see my family... Me and Hermann... I want to live.
But I want them gone. So bad. I...
[The precursors have left again. But the hopelessness that takes over their place leaves him heavy and anchored even still, and as he speaks, the vines begin to climb up him, weaving around, pulling him with slow inevitability into the pale, veined ground.]
Maybe there's no choice, and I have to... Maybe...
no subject
[Sabriel's not stranger to sacrifice, to the understanding that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.
But those sacrifices aren't to be made lightly. And not when they can be avoided.]
Fight them and live, and we'll all listen to you play your guitar, and collect the orbs and go home to worlds we've all made a little bit better- because you're not dead yet.
1/2
[He says it with a meekness that is entirely unlike him. He holds her arms in his hands, shivering but emboldened by her words. Fight them and live. He wants to keep going with the others — without the Precursors. He wants to overwhelm them, show them he's bigger and better than they thought he'd be. And those thoughts, it wars with the other thoughts, the ones burned into his mind night after night after night. Nobody will come for you, they only use you, they tolerate you-
He has to not listen. He has to remind himself they're wrong.
They're wrong, they're wrong, they're unfeeling, cruel monsters who wouldn't know kindness or love if it bit them in the ass. He has to remember this. He has to push back.
OH, NEWTON. YOU ARE NOT STRONG ENOUGH.
Newton's hands slide down to Sabriel's as he sinks lower and lower into the floor.
His face twitches, the corners of his lips wrenching into a grimace.]
no subject
And as the helpless panic ebbs away into certainty, a smile that is not his own pulls at his lips.]
It doesn't matter anyway, does it? [His voice echoes unnaturally, like there are other voices just behind his, layered and ominous as he stares inches from her face.] Ah, ah, ah. You're not going to stop us. How can you stop something you have no memory of?
[With a little, prim smile, they say:] Bye-bye, little bell.
[Suddenly he — they — yank her down, straight through the glowing, writhing floor.
Sabriel will have the terrible misfortune of feeling like she's drowning in cold, gelled nothingness, but hey! She won't remember a single thing after she's unceremoniously booted from this dreamscape.
Well.
Other than that terrible sinking feeling she's forgotten something important.
Maybe you left the oven on.]