ximilialog | [Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

CHARACTERS: Precursors and you. And Eventually Newton. Hopefully!
LOCATION: A holding room in Ximilia Station.
DATE: Est. two days post-mission, after the kaiju is defeated and the orb is retrieved.
CONTENT: The precursors are revealed — and are finally removed from Newt's mind.
WARNINGS: Possession and the bodily autonomy issues that come with that. More will be added if necessary!

Closed and opened starters will be added as I go, which will be announced on plurk! But if you don't use plurk or would rather keep an eye out by email/tracking, feel free to use the tracking option and mark to receive notifs any new top level comments posted to this log! The log will involve an open starter to visit the precursors where they're cuffed/contained in the room, so stay tuned.

Also no rush once the open starters are posted!

Feel free to focus on the player plot log first and come back to this later.

CLOSED STARTER | THE DOCTOR
DARKLING'S TOP LEVEL | WHILE NEWT WAS SLEEPING...
OPEN STARTER | THE PRECURSORS, REVEALED
CLOSED FINAL CONCLUSION | THE PRECURSORS, REMOVED
OPEN PROMPTS | NEWTON GEISZLER'S RETURN

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This poor carrot. It never stood a chance. A nuclear explosion couldn't do as much damage as what Newton's currently doing to it. It's baby food now. As she talks, he shakes his head, mustering some of that food-spearing energy to argue back.]

Healing should definitely come secondary when the person sitting in front of you was infected with parasitic aliens and tried to kill everyone. Fuck healing. [There's not enough self-loathing in the world right now. But he also knows nobody has time to listen to the rampant bitching and moaning of some nerd who apparently has a vendetta against vegetables. He looks down at them like they were the ones who summoned a kaiju.

Hesitantly, he obeys and jabs the fork into a green bean (he thinks, anyway), quietly slipping it into this mouth.]

They tried to fix my diet, y'know? They thought I ate like a rat. They threw out all my snacks, ate the same stupid meal every day. Some Protein and canned vegetable thing.

[He does look a little thinner, doesn't he? Just enough to slip under a radar.

After all, this is a stressful job. Could happen to any of them.]

[ she had wondered how much control they had — obviously plenty enough, to do as much damage as they had, but more she wondered to what extent... to what means and ends.

why affect his diet? to assert control? to strengthen the vessel they had? purely because they could?

she was curious, sure. but not curious enough to keep reminding him of the reasons for his guilt.

she clears her throat instead. her voice remains gentle, but there's some steel beneath it that remains unwavering. ]

Everyone deserves the chance to move on from this, Newt. Especially you, but not just you. Healing can happen both ways too.

[ she makes a wide gesture all around them. ]

You being here, free — it's a gesture of good will. The people who've helped you along the way, the ones who believe in you now... they'd want to see you getting better. Maybe they even deserve it just as much as you do. You may not think much of yourself now, so if you have to, do it for them instead.

You can't just speak for everyone else.

[He says it sharply, staring down at the tray. But for how sharply he says it, there's nothing but undiluted pain that shimmers beneath each strained word. He sits there and swallows hard, tries to will himself to stake another piece of food, even though the idea of going to the sunlight room makes him want to heave it all back up.]

... Some of them might not want me better. They may just want me gone.

What do they deserve? None of this was their fault.

What am I supposed to do for them? To help them move on?

[That's the scary thing. That's what he's warred with since he's woken up. Knowing that there are people in his crew that would rather he not be here... he'd destroyed the trust of plenty, and people who didn't know him before? The new blood... What reason would they possibly have to believe he was worth keeping around? They didn't even know him before he was a prick with a bomb switch in his hands.]

[ she looks away at his tone, as if he'd physically lashed out at her himself. but though she flinches, there she remains. ]

What else can you do, but better?

I can't speak for those people, no. And maybe I can't even speak for the ones who helped you, who did and risked so much more than me...

[ she wasn't there, in the trenches. she's only just here, trying to pick up the pieces left behind. ]

Were they wrong to do that? Are they wrong to put their faith in you again?

[He's quietly mortified when he turns to look at her.]

... I don't know.

[The words are about as lost as they can sound, as he drops his head into his hands.]

I don't know. I'm just... scared. Because they're gone, and I should be jumping for joy, but I'm scared, like I'm going to close my eyes and they'll still have been there all along, telling me what a joke I am for ever having hope that it was over.

Should anyone put their faith in me, Marta?

Edited 2022-05-31 00:06 (UTC)

[ maybe it's not the wisest choice, but she's close enough to reach out and pat the back of his hand. so she does, gently, just a reassurance that she's here. ]

I think it's a little late for shoulds. [ a helpless shrug. ] We already have.

But if that hope is too much for you to carry right now, Newt, then let us carry it for you till you're ready.

[The hand does twitch, flinches under her grasp, but Newton at least looks a little relieved when he realizes she'd been offering him some level of compassion. Maybe it's just as foolish that he lifts his hand out from under hers and lays it over hers instead, like he'd done all those months ago... but some part of him is desperate for touch after what they'd made him feel.

All those months, feeling like someone's hand on him was disgusting, like it was burning him or contaminating him; all that time he'd thought something was wrong with him, and it was just... them, infecting every good thing in his life. He owed Clara so many apologies, for all the times he shrugged off her gentle grasp.]

I'm... I'm gonna make it up to you. To everyone. I swear.

[Biting his lip, he squeezes her hand, hoping she doesn't feel quietly disgusted as he once had by this tactile need to reach out, to feel someone else alive. Looking around the small curtained area, he looks a little lost.]

I just need a little more time to, um... to think about it all. I guess.

There's a lot to think about. But I'll fix this. I can fix it.

Newt.

[ marta's voice retains its softness, but there is a steadiness to it that holds strong, insists on being heard. ]

It's only been a few days.

[ she squeezes his hand back, imploring. ]

You're allowed to take your time. Just... be patient. Get better. Come back to us when you're ready, hm?

[He sucks in a breath, does his best not to let his expression crumple.

It's not without great effort. He feels like a skinned wire, the copper cables left exposed as emotions vibrate in his chest. But... She's speaking to him softly, and she isn't angry or disturbed — she's just here. And... maybe she has a point. He nods urgently, bobbles anxiously as he says:]

... H'okay, I will. I'll, um. I'll take my time. I promise.

I want to. To get better.

[ mindful of her touch, she keeps her hands down at her sides, and tries instead to inject the warmth that would have been on her palms into the smile she gives him now. ]

That's the best place to start.

[Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

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