ximilialog | another open log t-poses in ur periphery

Entry tags:

another open log t-poses in ur periphery

CHARACTERS: Blue & open
LOCATION: Infirmary, Blue's room, Sun Room, Mess hall, dreams?!?!?
DATE: the post-Giva mission downtime
CONTENT: miscellany encounters & followups & dreamshares & even new cr?!? I DARE U
WARNINGS: mentions of death/terminal illness are likely, medical procedures/equipment/needles; other cws will be marked as needed

infirmary.

Blue was conscious for all of three minutes returning to the station, after which point he fell into Yzak Jule's arms and was asleep for two days, give or take. Some interference by way of Viveca had his body find its way to the infirmary for the necessary infusions that will see him back to the waking world and a less malnourished state.

Since then, Blue's a frequent visitor here, but he's determined to not be a resident. He'll accept the help he needs to get back here, turn his head away from the needle which pierces his hand to connect him to the concoctions taking the place of food and keep him running another day. He's been lucky to not have been harmed over the course of the mission beyond the strain of exhaustion, so he won't be found there in a sour mood. Instead, he welcomes company while he's tied up here, and he'll keep company those who may be stuck there for their own maladies.

dormitories.

He keeps his door open during the busier hours, especially when his psionics have flickered off: It grounds him, helps remind him he's still present, not in a nightmare. That's why passers-by may double-take and catch glimpse of wide, troubled eyes as the Mu sits on an edge of his bed, hugging his arms to himself while he's taking stock of himself with only five senses.

Three hundred years haven't made him shy to looking for help - rather, as his time has waned, he's grown more used to the taste of humility and the need for that help, even if it is simple companionship. It's never so simple for a Mu, after all.

mess hall/sun room.

In times where he's feeling better and more mobile, he'll borrow some help to get him to more public spaces. People gather to prepare and eat their meals, and while Blue himself can't partake in much more than teas or broths, there's nourishment in company that he still has a strong appetite for.

When the smell of food sours his stomach too much, he'll instead retreat to the sun room to sit (or lie down, as Majima taught him) under the warm light while others are present. While he's come here for comfort, when his psionics are active he'll instinctively turn his gaze on those with more troubled feelings wafting off of them - his gentle, red eyes watching, inviting company or conversation should they be so compelled.

dreamshare

There are some times, when Blue is asleep and his powers are still whole, his sleeping mind can be drawn to others also asleep, bleeding through the thin veil of another's mind into their dreams. He'll be an unwitting visitor at first, but the nature of dreams will gradually rouse him to lucidity within it. He'll figure it out...and perhaps clue the dreamer in, too, should the landscape be too dire.

[if you have a preference for psionics on or off, just lmk somewhere in the tag-in; you can also wildcard in if u want idc GO TO MY INBOX IF U WANT IDC COME AT ME U WANNA GO?? U WANNA FNKUCKING GO??/]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Best to be honest 'bout this kind of thing anyway. Or it festers.

[ and while there are plenty of well-meaning, caring people here . . . he's not sure. survival is more than just breathing. ]

Can't say I like it much myself.

[he looks back down, idly rubbing at one of his knuckles.]

If this works...the way I'm told it can...then I may be able to stand more, move more. I can have a bit of strength back, and that...is worth trying for.

I slept for fifteen years before this, Erik. I don't want to sleep anymore.

[ he hums. ]

I never slept. Not for anything. And when I hit the end, I came here. Still don't sleep.

[ a pause. ]

But yeah, I hear you. Feels like death when you do.

[Blue's mouth tugs in a grim fashion. Erik might not know how on-the-money a remark that is.

he looks back up to him.]

Have you gotten...proper rest, at least? Now that we have the time.

Dunno. Some times, yeah. It comes. Other times, it's just too much to let it go.

[ he's let go of so much. even healing the wounds on his skin. but he can't let it all out. he can't. it defined him, hurt him, created him. he may not be killmonger anymore, but erik would not shirk that accountability. ]

[he watches Erik for a moment.]

Do others...carry those things with you?

[ he hums, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands, elbows resting on his knees. ]

In a way. I'm kind of my own creation at this point. So I keep the flame alive.

[my own creation. Blue tilts his head slightly and considers that.]

Your own...by what you choose to carry...and what you choose to let go, you mean?

That's right. There's only one of me. And I'm here to make sure it stays that way.

[ no more war orphans in his wake, no more poor, underprivileged children grasping at the straws in a system that doesn't want them. ]

There are...already more than one of you. In a way. [his mouth pulls on one side briefly.] But...maybe not in the way you are thinking.

There's the Erik you are...the one you believe...and one I see. There's other Eriks...in the others you've interacted with here, too.

[ a low chuckle. ]

That sounds nice. A little bit of me in everyone. What about you? There a bit of you in others too?

I hope so.

[he smiles, but dips his head to obscure it.]

It's a selfish wish, but...I want to be remembered, even a little. And...I know I will be.

I don't mind it...I just hope...those versions of me will be something that can bring happiness, more than anything.

[ blue wants to be remembered. erik . . . is not sure he wants to be. if his wish worked, then what he was tryin to do would cease to exist. other people would get the credit for it. like t'challa and his outreach program. his name would be forgotten.

n'jadaka. ]

It ain't selfish. It's part of being alive right? You can't be alive without wanting somethin' out of it.

More than one something, yes. [he looks back up, the smile still there, though it has waned.] That's...what these powers are preying on, yes? The orbs. Even from our very start here, it's...because of what we want.

[ he chuckles. ]

Most definitely. That's kind of what systems of power do. They dangle what you want in front of you so that you'll do what they say.

[after a slight pause:] Is...what this place offers still what you want? Will you...get what you want out of it? Doing what's asked?

The regret which brought you here...do you still have it?

[ erik pauses. he's spoken of this to a few people and he never knows how much viveca hears. they probably know anyway and don't care as much. ]

My regret was never about me. It's for my people.

[Blue feels an ache of empathy at that, himself and his own identity and purpose so very tied to his own people. it's only here that he's been able to explore something more of himself - selfish things.]

It must be...a substantial ask, your wish.

I hope it will turn out...the way you want it to.

Probably won't.

[ he's not foolish enough to think a wish will turn the tide. still. ]

But I'll take the chance.

[Blue smiles ruefully, closing his eyes, silent for a few beats.]

...I'll help. However I can. You, the others... Whoever else...still has the will to follow through.

[he has already given up his own quest.]

[ erik pokes his arm lightly. ]

Think you gotta look out for yourself first. 'Sides, this kind of thing . . . It'll eat you away.

[Blue's eyes open, blinking owlishly at his own arm before he looks back to Erik.]

...That's strange to say. [...] You're the one...looking outside of yourself, aren't you? [what's that saying? 'do as i say, not as i do'?]

Sure. 'Cuz there's one of me and I can pay it.

You like stories?

[Blue nods. SURE DOES. but he'll keep quiet and listen, watching curiously.]

Here's one. There's an old story called Frankenstein. It's about a scientist who wanted to learn how to bring people to life. He stole parts from graveyards, pieces of people. Put 'em together and powered up his machine. And the creature came to life.

But it was a horrid, misshapen thing. A monster in his creator's eyes. So the scientist, Victor, he fled. And the monster was left to figure out the world. He learned of colours, sounds and smells. He wandered, alone and learned to love and learned to hate. Scorned by the humans he was made from. And finally, the vengeance took 'em. He wanted to punish the man who made him. So he chased Victor. Across land and sea. Until finally, Victor died. The monster was alone. Can't remember if he died or not in the story.

[ he pauses. ]

I have a lot of love and a lot of hate. It's like poison. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not. In the end, we're fashioned creatures. Many hands go into who we are.

'Least I can do with what I got is make sure there's no more like me.

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