ximilialog | exhale [open]

Entry tags:

exhale [open]

CHARACTERS: Blue, any
LOCATION: infirmary, mess hall, sun room, Blue's dormitory
DATE: post-mission
CONTENT: downtime (+dream/memshare option)
WARNINGS: mention of terminal illness, medical treatments/needles

Disorienting moments blurred together in the chaos in and outside of himself, with the context left only to his physical senses and the alarming news coming in from the earpiece. Blue can only hold on and endure as the train is rocked, as the car he's trapped in slows to a crawl, as the noise keeps coming in over the signal...

Until he doesn't. Until his eyes have to wince to readjust to the reflective surfaces and glaring light of Ximilia, until he must shudder and brace against the feeling of his psionics flooding back to him, bringing forth the anguish, fury, confusion, and betrayal flooding the place as much as the bodies. It leaves Blue in something of a shock - one that's well and fine to be ignored, since hard focus on him would likely just rattle him more, and anyway, his own attention keeps getting forcibly redirected toward a fairly unified notion.

Newt.

Newt, monsters...the roiling, gnashing form that bit back when he reached out - is that? What happened? He doesn't know. He just sees Newton getting carried away while he and the rest are left to linger undirected.

The exhaustion creeps back in steadily, bringing with it the old awareness of a failing body that must work harder for less of what's necessary. He puts up no audible fuss about having to be ferried to the infirmary, about getting pinched yet again with needles for fluids that compensate for what he can't intake himself, but his insides are raging. Bodily, he aches. Mentally, he is caging lions: Frustration bubbles over in the face of how unfair it is that he had been given time and means to stand on his own two feet and move about as a hale body, only to have no means or power to do much more than rummage a few suitcases. This isn't how Soldier Blue could help. Why did he have to have his psionics taken away.

It's infuriating to ruminate on, and that fury, while muted externally, still informs the way his brow knits, the way he goes still and quiet, bracing against shuddering, aching waves of discomfort. Now and then, it makes simple objects near him rattle or lift off surfaces just barely when his psionics are up and lacking any other means to vent.

It's worse when those psionics are off, when he feels himself alone in his own mind - that's when he tries to gravitate toward populated spaces: The infirmary, the mess, the sun room...somewhere with familiar-seeming people in that unfamiliar-seeming state of mind. The frustration remains, but at this point, that's familiar, too.

In those spaces, at least, his focus can be pulled outside of himself and toward others, regardless of if their feelings of frustration resonate with his or not. Sometimes he wants to commiserate...and sometimes he wants to simply try and take care of the burdens of others, to feel as though he can leave some good behind despite the decay he's saddled with.

That orb never did respond. Nothing changed. Not for the better, anyway. What else...is he supposed to do? It can't be to just die quietly; he won't allow that.

Just as before, more and more time will be spent bedridden than he'd like. In sleep, should there still be hours left with his psionics active, his mind can be pulled out and toward others at rest, too, and he may find himself walking their dreams just as much as his own. The bleed over doesn't even have to be terribly seamless, since to a sleeping mind, anything and nothing can make sense anyway.

He's just...there, now. There, somewhere with someone, be it happy or sad.

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[ Peter jolts awake on the couch, heart beating fast in his chest and a hand moving to his right thigh before he remembers that he doesn't have his blasters with him. Reality comes back to him quickly as green eyes stare at his surroundings. He's in the Ximilia still, not home, not with Ego or Thanos or anyone who might be a danger to those he cares about or to himself.

Panting, Peter buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, and tries to calm himself down. He should have gone to his room instead of falling asleep in public and making a scene. It takes him some good ten minutes before he's not feeling so raw, before he can think about what happened, before he can identify the familiar presence. Some more minutes pass before he sends a text. ]

Blue. Was that you?

[Blue takes a minute or two to respond, himself still reorienting now that he's so abruptly awake. the infirmary ceiling is familiar, but it's not something he hopes to see whenever he opens his eyes.

was that...him?

...]

I think so.
I woke up so suddenly. Did you?

[ Peter runs a shaky hand through his hair and takes another deep breath. ]

I was asleep, you were in my mind. Why?

My mind must have found its way to yours in my sleep.
I'm sorry.
It's strange I can still do that at all...but perhaps our emotions were resonating strongly enough.

Ah. It's...fine. I was startled, it's all.

It's not a bad thing, right? That you can still do it. That might be it, since we're all recovering from the mess that was the last mission.

Are you in your room or in the infirmary?

The infirmary, it seems.
I don't have count of the hours but...perhaps I won't be wandering in my sleep soon; my psionics will flicker off eventually.

Want company?

[ He's not sure if he will be a very good one, and Peter hates being in the infirmary, but he dislikes the idea of Blue staying alone in a hospital bed even more. ]

I'm sorry, Blue. But ey, you never know, maybe they will last for longer than you think.

I'm always happy for your company, Peter. [but outright saying "yes," knowing the man's aversion? he can't bring himself to do so. this is the best Peter can get as far as "yes" goes.]

M'okay, give me a little bit and I'll be there.

[ He wants to go to the kitchen first, grab a couple of drinks and some cookies so he can bring them to the infirmary.

He's not stalling for time, what are you imagining.

But he does eventually show up in the infirmary, frowning at the place before he spots Blue's bed and walks over to him, holding a paper bag. ]

Ey. You hungry?

[Peter's greeted with a sad, apologetic smile. he's aware of the trepidation, glimpsed the tremors of trauma that leaden Peter's steps drawing near the infirmary. that he'd brave that for Blue's sake isn't unnoticed...

and it stings, hearing the earnest offer, knowing he has to refuse.

Blue sits up with some effort, peering over through matted bangs.]

Hello. Peter. Please...enjoy them for me? I can't anymore, I'm afraid.

[ Peter wants to visit Blue more often, but at the same time, he's worried his friend will pick up on his gloomy mood and make things worse. There's that nagging, empty feeling in the pit of Peter's stomach. The familiar dread is brought on by knowing how this kind of story ends. But he ran away from Meredith once, he's not going to do that to Blue.

It's hard, more so when Blue gently declines the food, because Peter knows what it means. He shakes his head, ignoring the way his eyes start to sting, and places the paper bag on the bedside table. ]

S'okay, I'm not hungry. [ Peter reaches for a nearby chair, pulls it closer to the bed, and sits down. ] I brought orange juice too, if you are thirsty.

[he nods, lifting his head a bit higher.]

I wouldn't mind that. Thank you. You...brought enough for yourself, too?

Yes, I brought more than one bottle. But don't worry about it.

[ He smiles at that. Count on Blue to always be looking out for others. Peter looks into the bag, pulls out a small glass bottle of orange juice and twists the caps easily. He pauses after that, looking down at the bottle, then at his friend. ]

Ah, do you want me to help or...? [ He's not sure how weak Blue is feeling and doesn't want to insult him by making any assumptions, but he has to ask. ]

I might spill it if I try. [pride can be put aside for a little while, right? or, rather...he'd like to keep a little pride for himself aside and not look utterly feeble in front of his worried friend.

he'll accept it when Peter's popped it open, though.] Thank you, Peter. Though...I ought to be the one coming with peace offerings, right? For having scared you so badly.

Got it. Let me take care of it.

[ This too, he also has experience doing, even if it's been literal decades. There was a point too, at the very end, when Meredith could barely lift a hand and walking was out of the question, no matter how bony and light her body has become.

Peter brings the bottle to Blue's lips gently with a hand, placing the other on the man's shoulder to help him incorporate himself a little bit. ]

You didn't mean to wander into my dreams, you don't need to apologize. Does this happen often? Accidentally walking into other people's mind when you dream?

[he takes the bottle in both hands afterward, brow pinched a bit. it's not pain - it's just that he hadn't had anything as flavorful in a while, so it takes acclimating to. his expression smooths out while Peter talks, and he nods gently.]

Sleeping Mu minds wander...just as human ones do. Only...Mu have the means to wander further, and mingle.

I do appreciate...that you didn't bite. [a yell is more palatable than teeth.]

[ Peter leans back on the chair, expression failing to mask his worry before he can scold his face into neutrality. He regrets not having something in his hands to fidget with. His Zune is in his pocket because he always carries it with him, and he pulls the small device out as they talk, twirling the earphone's cord between his fingers. ]

Dreamwalkers, uh. I can see that is pretty cool too, but startling when you don't expect someone else in your mind. I don't like unannounced visitors, it's not just you. [ He says that almost apologetically, but it is the honest truth. ] Bite? Did someone bite you in a dream? The fuck. How???

[mildly, reassuring:] I understand. Many have their reasons, known and unknown... What I do isn't natural everywhere. And where it is...some have defenses against it.

[ Peter is still looking a little bewildered, but after thinking about it for a second, he realizes that people like Rocket will bite first and ask questions later. ]

That makes sense. I hope others here at the station had a nicer reaction than I did.

Please...don't worry about it, Peter. It's alright. You even...came to visit, despite that. You're very kind to me.

Of course I'm here, you're my friend.

[ He turns a hand through his hair, looking away in slight embarrassment. He doesn't think that doing this for Blue is something he should be thanked for. But it's also relieving that Blue understands how uncomfortable clinics and hospitals are for him. Looking back at him, Peter gives a tired smile. ]

If you want to lie down and sleep some more though, to rest, feel free. I won't be going anywhere, I promise.

[he smiles, though there's a pained twinge to it at that suggestion.]

You don't think...it'll do me harm to stay awake just a little longer, right? I spend so much time here asleep as it is. I don't get to talk to you or the others...to spend time learning about you... When's the last time I could keep my eyes open to watch one of those films you like...?

No, no, of course not. I get it, really.

[ Maybe in more ways than he wants to admit. When you know you might not have much time left, you want to make every second count and matter. Peter is only worried about Blue overexerting himself, but simply talking can't do him harm. ]

We can talk about anything you want. Or I could even explain to you some movies from my universe, or some myths, I've done that before. Do you have fairy tales in your world?

[Blue considers his ask; it's something posed to him before.

what was it, again? that Jomy spoke to, long ago...]

...Peter Pan.

[ The corner of Peter's lips upturn and he gives a nod. ]

Ah, yes, I'm familiar with that one. The boy who never grew up, living adventures in Neverland. Did you hear about him here, or the book exist in your universe as well?

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