ximilialog | OPEN - I wanna know who you are

CHARACTERS: The Darkling and YOU
LOCATION: Around the station during downtime
DATE: Every date until the next mission
CONTENT: Meh, Darkling doing darkling stuff- but in space!
WARNINGS: None? Morally grey stuff?

i. Returned. Infirmary

[The transition to the station is less smooth this time, and the Darkling stumbles away from the drop-point, letting go of Alina's hand as he takes an unsteady step to avoid the utter disgrace of falling flat on his face.

What's left of his clothes has been dried out from the heat of Alina's Light, but it's still torn and covered with plaster dust, sticking uncomfortably to his skin and the blood has dried out in to flaky maroon.

He walks slowly towards the infirmary, right hand clenched around his side to stop the bleeding. Once inside, he rummages through drawers and cabinets, pulling out clean gauze, water and alcohol. Needle and thread, in case he needs it, putting it all out in a neat row. Slowly, carefully, because most of his left side feels burned, skin pulled too tight and near-blistering from the Small Science that seared what was left of the poison out of him before the fall through the floor.

The Darkling peels off his shirt, trying awkwardly to reach around on his back where a piece of glass is sticking out.]

Excuse me? If you could just pull on that for me.

ii. The Sunlight room

[The days drag on the station. There's nothing to do, except fall in to his own mind and work on the block that Rhysand seems to think is possible. Unless that too is a trick, another lie to worm his way closer.

The Darkling sits under a tree with the false sun shining on his upturned face, letting it warm him in ways the blankets and the heating of this place never could. It might be a simulation or something equally mysterious that powers it, but the rays are heated against his skin and it's something else to look at other than Kovacs or the pale walls in their room.]

Move.

[And without opening his eyes, he adds a-] please.

iii. Kitchen

[Without a mission, or even a clear goal to plan for, the Darkling drifts through the station, watching the other orbers go about their business. The careless way they might interact, who talks to whom and which rooms people go in to.

There's an idleness to this that grate on his nerves. That makes his skin itch, and he heads off to the kitchen to find something to eat, now that most people seem to have had their fill, thus leaving it mostly empty.

Sliding in to a chair, he grabs the tray of food, stabbing it as if it had personally insulted him.]

iv. Training

[The sense of boredom grows with every day, his body unused to this life. Sitting for long periods of time without anything to plan for, or to do, makes him restless, and the Darkling finds himself in the training room again.

Trying to burn off excess energy by punching a bag that hangs from the ceiling. For once, the Darkling isn't covered from head to toe in black, but has opted for a white shirt and loose dark pants that might once have been pajamas, his hands covered with black leather gloves and sweat making his hair stick up.

Punch after punch, hitting the bag until he's breathless and panting, muscles aching and mind a little less loud in the quiet of the room. When the door opens, he glances over before nodding at the row of weapons.]

How are you with a sword?

v. WILDCARD

[Throw anything at me, as the Darkling is lurking around in the shadows on the station when he's not in his room. Or hit me up at ireth

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He swallows back the 'what?' that threatens to just leap out of his mouth, because- everything that Jim just mentioned... is impossible.

Alternate timelines, lives not lived but meeting somewhere in the middle despite all the odds and impossibilities against it. Peter had mentioned something like this on Braccia, weeks ago. Alcohol soaked and pink-cheeked, watching near-naked dancers swaying their hips on a lit stage, but he had mentioned something just like this.

That life was not a wide, open road to walk down. The exhaustion weighing you down as it just kept coming, never ending and uphill. No, life and time was the roots of a tree, branching out in all directions and only your choices to guide you through the mess of it.

Roads not taken, choices you didn't take - it all existed somewhere closer to the Making.

And his sneaking suspicion about undoing his regret-]

What do you think happened to the other timeline, the original one as you called it.

[ Well, the surprise is to be expected. He'd count to see it on just anyone he might tell this story too. But at least Kirigan doesn't seem clueless, it looks like he actually understands what Jim's telling him, how it all happened. It saves him trying and failing to explain the complexities of time travel or black holes.

But the shock lingers, and so Jim waits. He understands that it's a lot of information to parse, to dissect and absorb, and frankly it's not a story that Jim has shared with many people, even those in his own world. Here, he can count with the fingers of one hand how many people know he's the product of a diverging timeline. ]

Well, it's there, [ He shrugs. ] It exists, it will continue to exist. The existence of one reality doesn't erase all the other parallel ones out there, no matter how similar or distant. All the people I've met here so far are proof of that.

[His own newly imagined theories about the promise the station made them, is still in its infancy. Too raw to be let out in to the world, too fragile. But he will think about this, about Jim, as the days will drag on from here.

About choices. The breaking branches of abandoned timelines.

The Darkling smiles, cocking his head to lighten the mood.]

You think that my world and your world might be distantly related? Or, that my world might grow to become like yours. Saints, we have nothing in Ravka that might be capable of flying and it is still a risk simply to venture out on the True Sea. You live in the sky. Everything about your world is- spectacular.

It's very possible that all universes are related in some way, however distantly or closely. I could be from your universe, even, just a very faraway galaxy. In my own universe, we have only explored about one half of our galaxy, that's how big it is. Who even knows what else might exist out there, in the far reaches and well beyond the limits that we have so far mapped out?

[ Maybe a kind of magic like what Kirigan and other people in his reality have exists somewhere; what's more unlikely to Jim is that Humans would have somehow managed to evolve in exactly the same way, even in a completely different world. The circumstances would be too specific for it to happen in the same way. ]

And how large is your galaxy? I'm sorry, but all I know about space, I've had to learn in the past few months. In my country- my would [a small correction, since having to think bigger than just Ravka. Bigger than the borders that he's been defending for centuries.

The World.] we tell stories about the creation of the stars, the tragedies that might have been and we tell ourselves that there is nothing like us anywhere out there in all that darkness. The stories are about as likely as our religious legends, but they are all we have.

But you- you have touched another planet. Saints, you're from another planet and, honestly, all of this is very much not what I was expecting. I didn't expect you to be so- human.

No, it's fine. Hard to say with absolute certainty, but... very large. We have only explored less than half of it because that's as far as we can go with our level of technology. We haven't explored a huge chunk of space even in our own quadrant.

[ As Kirigan can likely tell by now, even in Jim's own reality and time there is yet a lot that people don't know, but that lack of knowledge only serves to further fuel their curiosity, their desire to learn, experience and explore.

His lips curl at Kirigan's last observation, and he chuckles. ]

Ah. Yes, we're out there like a pest you just can't get rid of. Must be a very popular evolutionary process.

Is that what you're doing out there in space? Explore.

[The way the world had been explored centuries ago, the scourge of otkazat'sya trampling all over the new lands, creating borders and starting wars.

The extermination of peace that followed the ruthless march across each continent.

The rise of Grisha in the wake, and the prejudice that grew like a sickness through all of them.]

That is a curious way to describe yourself. Do you pillage the worlds that you find, as well?

[No judgement in his voice, and the Darkling's black eyes remain kind and curious, locked on Jim's face.]

For the most part, yes. Exploration is the main focus of Starfleet. Being the flagship of the Federation, however, the Enterprise has some experience with first contact with several species, and less friendly encounters with other people who aren't necessarily as interested in peace and coexistence as we are.

[ No, not that kind of exploration whatsoever. That was how things were almost a millennia ago, but not anymore, thankfully so.

Both his eyebrows raise at the question, but still he smiles, thinking that Kirigan either didn't get the joke, or he's just joking himself. ]

Not at all. I use the word 'pest' very fondly, in this case.

OPEN - I wanna know who you are

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would= world, thank you for knowing what I meant

no worries! :>