ximilialog | ( open ) and if i only could make a deal with god

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( open ) and if i only could make a deal with god

CHARACTERS: takeshi kovacs & you
LOCATION: various locations on the station
DATE: late october
CONTENT: post-mission recovery, eating, sparring, getting high, etc.
WARNINGS: broken arm, nudity, sexual content, and various types of drug use in some prompts

I. PRIDE ( limit to 1 tag-in only, cw: broken arm ) the infirmary

[ his fight with cheri had turned out pretty rough, and though his sleeve has its advances with neurachem to make him a little more durable than most, it doesn't negate the rough slam of his body against the wall when she'd thrown him with the rough force of her power, resulting in the broken bone of his arm. when they arrive back at the station, most everybody's not in the best of conditions on account of their shared fights, some left better off than others, and though he's more inclined to just pass out right where he lands, kovacs does eventually make his way to the infirmary, still in the bloody, ripped mess of the clothes he arrived in.

he's not exactly expecting anyone to necessarily help him out here, a bit of stubbornness leading him to search around the room for a sling on his own. of course, while the arm is the only thing that's broken, the rest of his body is still plenty aching from the rest of the fighting and he hisses and grits his teeth in the midst of his search, muttering quiet swears as he looks around.

maybe it'd be helpful for someone to lend him a hand. ]

II. GLUTTONY the mess hall

[ once he's got his sling for his arm, along with a fresh shower and clean clothes on, kovacs tries to get himself resettled at the station, at least enough so for him to get some rest after the big fight. starving, he heads on over the kitchen, fixing himself a fairly simply bowl of cereal before he goes out into the mess hall, seating himself at an empty table and picking up the spoon in his bowl with his currently only working hand.

if someone ends up sitting up at his table, his eyes peer over at the rest of the large room with plenty of empty seating before raising his brow at his new shared company. ] No other seats, huh?

III. ENVY ( cw: drug use ) the sunlight room

[ it might be something from that final fight, or maybe it's the way he hasn't had anything to keep himself busy since he's been back, but kovacs finds something pestering in his mind, something about his being here bothering him in more ways than he can really place. it's those times where his mind becomes consumed with old ghosts, visions in his mind that seem more real than they are, and so he chooses to fight them in the only way that's currently accessible to him.

in the bright pink backpack brought over with him from his own world, he carries not only a small collection of weapons but an abundance of drugs as well, some on the little harder side than others.

working like eyedrops, he lets the veuron fall into his eyes, feeling the effects of it work into him fast. in mere moments, he can see the colors of the sunlight room almost completely shift, the trees and the flowers suddenly brightening like a hologram of neon lights, the false stars above turning into lined waves of light circling around as his head sways.

bag still over his shoulder, he spins in place, mouth gaping and eyes wide like he's seeing it all for the first time, bright and mesmerizing. ]

IV. SLOTH ( cw: drug use ) the sunlight room

[ the hallucinogens aren't the only thing stored in his bag, and when it all becomes too loud, he finds himself seated against the bottom of a tree in the sunlight room, in the late dark of its nights, dropping the contents of a different drug into his eyes, this one with the effects of slowing everything down, everything falling quiet around him, his heart even slowing slightly.

he doesn't need to be high to see her. no, he can always very well see quell like she's right there in front of him, even when he knows she's gone, either as an aftereffect of still being fairly fresh with the sleeve he's wearing or simply because he can never get rid of her in his head — he'd never want to.

to anyone else who might slip by, he'd be staring at nothing right now, eyes focused with his arms dropped at his sides, bag nestled between his thighs, but for him, he can see every detail, every curve of her face as he remembers it vividly, even the sadness of her gaze. ]

I made a deal to get you back. [ he whispers quietly to her, his own eyes damp as he breathes shakily. ] It goes against everything we fought for. Everything you died for. [ with a swallow, his voice is a quiet rasp. ] But I can't do this without you.

V. WRATH training room

[ after about a few days to a week, he can feel the changes in his arm, healing a bit faster than the room, bone repairing from a combination of the tech on the ship on his own body's advantages. and after enough time of his own personal boredom and a frustration is being so limited with his limbs, the first thing he wants to do is make sure it's all in working shape.

heading on over to the training room, unicorn bag slung over his shoulder, his decision on practicing with his hands or a weapon is all dependent on who he may end up fighting against. looking to someone else in the room, he gives them a nod. ] Need a partner?

VI. LUST ( cw: nudity ) shared living space with the darkling

[ one thing he's definitely taking advantage of with all his current free time is sleeping, at least for as much as he can when he isn't fighting the sleepless nights, sometimes paired with nightmares of his past. sometimes, the exhaustion kicks in where he even forgets he shares a room, going to bed the way he's most comfortable — completely in the nude.

if there's a knock on the door — be it for him or the darkling, who shares the other half of the space — he'll wake with a muttered swear, rubbing his eyes and sleepily dragging his legs off the bed. too tired to even think of covering up, and often not even thinking of it much even if he were more consciously awake, he stands and heads over to the door, opening it with a deep squint of his eyes and body fully naked. ]

What do you want?

VII. GREED anything and anywhere

( feel free to discuss with me alternative options of the above prompts or something different altogether. if you'd like to discuss a closed starter for me to write, just hit me up on plurk at hepburns or send a pm. ♥ )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Detective.

[ he clarifies, though at least for this particular case, even if she's not exactly far off in her guess. it's not like he's necessarily offended by her thinking so. ]

Has me trying to solve his murder for him. [ which might sound strange to someone who isn't from that world, but unless she asks, he doesn't elaborate on it himself.

she keeps her eyes on him and he stares back at her with a neutral stare as he inhales from his own cigarette. ] But I do get my hands dirty from time to time, if I have to.

Right.

[Daisy laughs, a little embarrassed for just assuming.]

He--?

[That makes absolutely zero sense. How could the guy that hired him be communicating with him if he's already dead?]

So you talk to ghosts?

[Well, Daisy definitely can't judge him for that.]

Don't we all?

[Even if there are people here who never did anything like this prior, they're doing it now. Although, no one has been murdered. Yet.]

[ her assumption doesn't surprise him, not anymore, now that he's met a number of people on the station who aren't familiar with the way things work on his world. but the irony is that while it isn't bancroft's ghost he's been talking to, he does still have a habit of talking to ghosts.

but he's not going to bring up quell or rei, even if she has evidence of the latter. ]

In my world, people don't die the way you'd think. And the rich and powerful kind all kind of ways to live forever.

[Tears prickling her eyes, Daisy inhales shakily. The idea that, in some other world, she could've kept her mother from dying...

Again.

It's the whole reason she's here. To try and get her mother back. To repair their relationship.]

How's that work?

[ he's explained it a few times but he knows it so instinctively that it's not necessarily a chore to explain it again, even if it's been strange to be the educator on this.

looking at her for a second, he pushes himself off the wall, stepping over to her side of the room. sitting on the edge of the bed (hopefully kirigan doesn't mind his sheet-covered ass on it), he angles his back to her so he can point to his neck, where a scarred line runs horizonally on the nape. ]

Right here, there's a disk that's stored in every person at the age of one. It stores DHF — basically human consciousness which can then be transferred to bodies anywhere, any city, any planet, in seconds. The body dies but as long as the data's intact, people can keep living.

[Scooting over to give him room, Daisy tries to make eye contact with him when he sits down but his back is to her. Leaning forward when he points out the line on his neck, Daisy’s fingertips barely brush against it before she pulls her hand back.]

That’s—-

[A lot to process. It almost sounds fake, but why would he have any reason to lie?]

So you’re like an android?

[ he can feel the light graze of her fingers, a reminder that this really is new to her, considering that scar wouldn't be that strange or interesting to anyone otherwise. ]

What? No.

[ he turns where he sits, shifting enough to face her with a tight squash. ]

Androids are a whole other thing. People are still people. Just advancement of biological technology.

[Taking one last drag from her cigarette, Daisy tilts her foot so she can put it out on the bottom of her shoe. Eyes roaming his face for a few seconds as if looking for any signs that he's not 'real', Daisy smiles a tight smile at his response.

Any amusement is immediately squashed when she realizes what he means by that though. ]

So there's just...?

There's just bodies out there? Waiting for someone else's consciousness to be uploaded into it?

Something like that. Plenty of stacks without a sleeve. Plenty of sleeves without a stack. And that's not counting synthetic sleeves and clones.

[ even with the most thorough explanation of the way his world works, there's still numerous sidebars about the more intricate details. but at least he can give her the vaguest idea about it.

he shrugs, returning back to his own cigarette. ] Truth is, this isn't my sleeve.

[Blinking as she absorbs all of this new slang he's throwing at her, Daisy still doesn't quite get what he's talking about.]

That's--

Really messed up.

[It feels wrong to Daisy, that there are just bodies out there waiting to be used.

When he mentions that this isn't his sleeve, she assumes that he means body. Wringing her hands out, Daisy suddenly feels uneasy. The way he explains all of this as if it isn't wrong, and maybe it isn't in his world. It just doesn't align with her beliefs, as skewed as they are.]

So does that mean you're--?

[Obviously he's not dead, but Daisy doesn't know what other word to use here.]

[ he turns to look at her with question, not immediately answering as he stares at her, taking in a long and slow drag of his cigarette. ]

I'm a lot of things.

[ he's more complicated than most, really. something he's not even sure about getting into. ]

It's just on loan. Guy who originally had it's in prison on ice right now. Giving it a little spin for the time being.

[ which probably doesn't answer her question. ]

[None of this sits right with her, and she has to break eye contact with him as she tries to understand all of it.]

Is that where most of the bo--

[She almost says bodies, but that's not the term he's been using.]

Is that where they get the sleeves? From prisoners?

[ it's still strange having to explain all of this at all, the concept of it too normal in his mind. though some of it, too, had to be explained to him upon waking, because even while stacks and sleeves were already normal in his time, the future brought about a lot more of moral questions.

some of which he can almost see going through her head right now with the way she almost seems uncomfortable. ]

Some of them. Sometimes the bodies are cloned too. Sometimes they're synthetic. Sometimes they get them through dirtier means.

[Daisy looks at him when he explains how these sleeves are acquired, her expression falling the more ways he lists off. She’s angry, but not with him.]

And by dirtier means you mean murder.

[Daisy doesn’t pose it as a question, because she can’t imagine what else he could mean.]

[ he answers her with a shrug from one shoulder, the answer already obvious, able to interpret that she isn't actually asking for an answer. he's not going to sugar coat the kind of world he lives in; it's not like he hadn't once fought to keep it from becoming that way. ]

That's what happens when humanity finds way to live forever. They'll do whatever it takes to stay alive, no matter how dirty.

[ except what it usually means is that the rich succeed while everyone else gets left behind. ]

And what if you don't want that? What if you just want it to be over?

[She's not upset with him, obviously. It's not like he's the one who created this technology.]

[ what if you just want it to be over?

that question carries more weight than she might realize, at least to him. he falls quiet for a moment, staring off with a steadiness of silent breaths. he can almost feel the gun in his hand, raising it up to his neck in a haze of emotional pain, the sight of quell at his side, whispering to his ear.

if you do that, it won't all go away, she says.

looking up now in the small confinement of the room, he can see her now, an image of his past, standing in the corner, staring at him in his pensive state. but she isn't there. she's a ghost. daisy won't see her as he does.

he shakes himself out of the drifting thoughts. ]

There's, uh — religious coding. If it goes against your beliefs, your DHF can be coded so that they don't spin you back up. There's that or stack damage. If the data's busted and not backed up, it's over.

[Frowning when he goes silent, Daisy realizes she might've been too blunt with her questions. She's about to apologize when he speaks up again, watching him as he explains how it works. It occurs to her maybe he's experienced that with people he knew, and the thought has her looking away from him and down at her hands.]

Oh.

[Daisy's quite for a good minute before she looks back up at him, brows knitted together in curiosity as her eyes roam his face.]

How old are you?

[He said this wasn't his sleeve, which means something happened to his old body...]

Edited 2021-11-18 17:23 (UTC)

[ when she goes quiet, he thinks maybe she's done asking questions, preparing to stand back up on his feet before she asks the next one. he scoffs almost silently with a touch of humor. it's a question he's had to answer a few times here already and one that he hates. mostly because he was never meant to reach his age at all. ]

Nearing three hundred I guess.

[ he shrugs, giving a vague shake of his head. ]

Slept through most of it though while I was on ice.

Edited 2021-11-25 15:28 (UTC)

[That does surprise her, even if he's already told her this wasn't his 'original sleeve'.]

How come you were asleep for that long?

They had me locked up. Going dark is usually what happens in prison.

[ so along with everything else, he's a criminal too. though that's a plenty complicated concept all on its own. ]

[Daisy nods once, looking down at her hands.]

What were you in prison for?

[It must've been bad if he had been put on ice like that.]

[ he scoffs into a chuckle. the real question is, what wasn't he put into prison for? he can still remember the warden listing off his crimes like a grocery list, though from what he recalls of it, a lot of it had been bullshit stitched together by jaeger. not that he's going to whine about it. ]

Little of this, little of that. Just tend to be the kind of guy who easily pisses off the wrong people.

So this rich, not-so-dead guy, took you off ice to solve his murder?

[She's starting to imagine what he meant by 'little of this, little of that'. ]

Why does he care, anyway? I mean, he's alive. Isn't he?

Edited 2021-11-27 03:07 (UTC)

Whoever wanted a shot at him tried to take out his back-ups too. When the rich get paranoid, they'll do anything to clean up the mess, make sure they're invincible.

[ he's already seen the kind of extents they go to in order to secure that. that kind of power, the dominance over life, quell had warn them all about hundreds of years ago and she was right. bancroft was just one of many. ]

Kind of like what Cheri did. Took out everyone who got in the way of her immortality, of her power. Wanted to make sure she was foolproof.

( open ) and if i only could make a deal with god

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ignores my dumb typos

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cw: suicidal ideation

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