evowhisperer: ((Goatee) Breezy smile)
evowhisperer ([personal profile] evowhisperer) wrote in [community profile] savetheearth2015-02-12 08:34 pm

Open Network and Locked Log

*Guess who's facing the 'camera' in an empty hallway with a familiar tablet in hand? This guy. Hopefully Cesar won't miss that thing for communicating, because Doppelganger!Cesar won't be giving it back any time soon...*

*Doppel!Cesar gives the castle window (his network connection) a small smile, before putting the tablet's screen right up to fill the feed's vision. The screen has... a power point presentation?*
 
Hello! I'm afraid I physically can't talk, but there's a few things that need to be said.
 
*He holds it up long enough to be absolutely sure the viewers have finished reading, before hitting the next slide.*
 
1. Strange things are happening in Neuschwanstein. Please don't be alarmed: they appear to be harmless, if somewhat disruptive. No one is in danger.
 
*No, not even the people Thorin is threatening. Shut up. Next slide.*
 
2. I'd like to help explain these strange incidents. If anyone has any information about them, please send me a message.
 
*Next slide.*
 
3. On a more personal note, I owe you all an apology. I've been secretive to the point of absurdity before now, and it's time for this to change. From now on I will answer any and all questions you ask as honestly as possible.
 
*Next slide. The real Cesar won't see this post until later, and it's about this time that he'll start to panic.*
 
As a show of faith, here's a few things about myself.

I live in Locke.

I'm showing you slides instead of speaking because my vocal chords were unexpectedly removed a couple of months ago.

My hobbies include research, accordion music, and hiking.

Echoes suggest that my Other was a scientist.

My name is Cesar Sanches-Ortiz.
 
 
*Next slide.*
 
Your turn. Questions?
 
*He ends with a wider, breezier smile to the camera, before the feed cuts out. People re-windowing to the page a couple of hours later may notice that the post's content has been erased, only to go back up a minute later. The struggle continues for nearly half an hour, before the post stays as is, with the occasional subversive editing of that last slide.*
 
----

 
Who: Tony, Cesar, and Doppel!L
What: Tony and Cesar come to collect 'L' before he does anything rash.
When: Early on during all the confusion.
Where: Germany, starting in a cafe near the castle
Warnings: Doppel!L and his suggestiveness!
Log Closed.

It took Cesar almost fifteen minutes to tear himself away from the teleporter, and in the end it's a reminder from Tony that does the trick. 'This is just great, and all, but weren't you worried about L?' Yes, he was. There aren't so many cafes in the area that they have to search far, but they still have a cellphone out for directions, and the snow is thick enough that they almost get lost regardless. It's winter in Germany.

By the time they finally get to the right cafe, Cesar is half expecting L to be gone. The bell on the door tinkles when they open it, and they're immediately met by warm air and a comfortable bustle of the late afternoon crowd. He stops a little off to the door's side, scanning the room.
dead_black_eyes: "Secret Agent Man" (I want your horror)

[Private Text] The real deal!

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 04:07 am (UTC)(link)
[L has, just now, finally managed to access the Network. He doesn't know what's going on; there's a lot of information, and he's been in trouble with limited mobility.]

NEEDD HHLP CANT CALL TON Y HELP
dead_black_eyes: "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" (Bang bang that awful sound)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
N

[It's really, really hard to type like this. His phone is dead, he's weak and cramped and hit his head pretty hard and tapping out Morse Code is taking a little while.]

N O. JACK IN BO X COME HLP NOT TONY
dead_black_eyes: "Secret Agent Man" (I saw so much I broke my mind)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 04:47 am (UTC)(link)
JA CK IN T H E BOX

[Slowly and laboriously spelled out. It takes a long time to come through.]

T AKE OUT FOO D HEAR MENU

A J.I.T.B.
dead_black_eyes: "Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)" (Bang bang that awful sound)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 05:14 am (UTC)(link)
HEAD

[So, yes. A little bit, enough to disorient him for almost two days.]

TONY CANT KN OW DONT TELL
dead_black_eyes: "First We Take Manhattan" (It's Father's Day & everybody's wounded)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 05:28 am (UTC)(link)
[As if he can go anywhere on his own!]

HE PUT ME HER E.

dead_black_eyes: "Rooks" (Until the world of Man is paralyzed)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 05:42 am (UTC)(link)
ATTACKED

1 FINGER

CLOSET


[Despite the brevity, it's probably enough to indicate L's location more precisely. Every employee at this particular fast food restaurant has assumed that the large metal shelving unit moved in front of a seldom-used utility closet is supposed to be there.]

dead_black_eyes: "Bedlam Boys" (The fray it shall become me)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 05:58 am (UTC)(link)
TUES

NIGHT


[He needs a shower and clean clothes badly. Also water.]
dead_black_eyes: "First We Take Manhattan" (It's Father's Day & everybody's wounded)

[Private Text]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-13 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
[He can try. He's gagged and bound tightly with duct tape, but he can bump his shoulder feebly against the door.]
dead_black_eyes: "Secret Agent Man" (Hello darkness my old friend)

[Action]

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-14 05:35 am (UTC)(link)
[Lazarus is cramped, immobile, and in a compromised, humiliating position. It's not one he ever wanted Cesar to see him in, but desperation has a way of humbling the proudest men when salvation is a mere several finger-taps away. Getting that finger free seems to have taken hours of work scratching duct-tape covered hands against a mildly rough edge, because he has been bound and gagged in a way that seems premeditated to prevent attempts to contact the Network.

And then there's that head injury; blood has caked and dried at his temple, where a vibrant bruise is in its peak. Even if he'd gotten that finger free earlier, it's likely that being coherent enough for communication is a fairly recent thing.

L had expected at least some disgust mixed in with the dismay of his rescuer. He's aware that two days in a broom closet has resulted in a situation that is unpleasant to multiple senses. However, the overwhelming mood communicated by Cesar as he works to free L's stiff, sore hands is protectiveness. His worry and drive to fix this comes through with bell-like clarity, and the second at least one hand is free, he is reaching up to clumsily pull at the duct tape over his mouth. He is filthy, and stifled and furious and deeply confused, but Cesar is helping and he believes those silent words on the other man's lips.]
Edited 2015-02-14 05:36 (UTC)
dead_black_eyes: "Bedlam Boys" (The fray it shall become me)

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-14 06:35 pm (UTC)(link)
A lot of thoughts are barreling through L's mind at present. Getting to the bottom of what happened and, more importantly, why are at the forefront, but other things are pressing, too. Getting out of the restaurant, cleaning up, changing clothes, a drink of water, all not necessarily in that order, but when he starts to position his aching legs under him in an attempt to stand, Cesar is motioning for him to keep still.

He's hoarse and sounds parched when he speaks, but not as jumbled or confused as he might. He recognizes that he's insanely lucky to have regained consciousness after being hit that hard in the skull. He winces as he stretches his legs.

"In a minute..." hopefully he won't be dizzy or weak. Maybe he can manage this with some shred of dignity intact, he thinks hopefully, he can stroll out of here, magically procure new clothing and a shower, a bottle of vitamin water, and no one will be the wiser for the fact that his best friend threw him in a closet for two days.

All hope of that is briskly dashed when he moves to stand and pitches forward, coming down on his knee as the floor tilts sharply under him.

"...maybe another minute." His cheeks and muscles are all burning. He reaches for a pair of garbage bags, unrolling them, working at their filmy closures with his stiff fingers.

"Cesar, could you... I don't suppose you can order me some food, and a large water?" He pulls a bucket and some cleaning supplies toward him and then starts trying to stand again. "I'll be in the men's room. I can't leave here this way."
dead_black_eyes: "Yellow Flicker Beat" (They used to shout my name)

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-15 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
L startles and recoils, almost falling again due to the challenges presented suddenly to his sense of balance. He doesn't, because the other, much stronger man has a firm hold on his elbow and... OK, there, now he's being almost fully supported. L is the opposite of dead weight, stiff and uncomfortable and vaguely panicked by the stifling assistance.

"Uh, Cesar..." he croaks, squirming, "I appreciate this, but..."

My friend stabbed me in the back and I'm disgusting and I won't be able to think straight until I fix at least one of those.

He holds the cleaning bucket close to his chest.

"...I really need some water. I can handle cleaning up on my own, there... there are just some ways I really don't want you to see me until we're both old and falling apart, you know?" he attempts a smile, no big deal, these things happen, I can take care of it, please let me take care of it, not even realizing the other, weightier implications behind what he's said.
dead_black_eyes: "Secret Agent Man" (When you're weary feeling small)

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-15 08:13 pm (UTC)(link)
What L knows of Cesar leads him to believe that his desperation to get back on the horse with as little help as possible would be respected to a fault. That Cesar would understand his discomfort, respond to the awkwardness and be anxious for an escape route to avoid further awkwardness, especially sober. L frequently sets the tone this way, expressing directly and indirectly what he finds acceptable, and Cesar either gets strung along or makes the conscious decision to find it acceptable, too.

His legs are wobbly under him. As much as he hates to admit it, he does somewhat need Cesar's support, but he thinks he could make it to the bathroom, sit on the floor, and tend to himself alone, but first he has to deal with the... unexpectedly fervent way Cesar is throwing himself into a nurturing, caretaking role at present. It's an unusual situation; perhaps that's the reason.

"It's OK..." he emphasizes. "It's nowhere near as bad as what happened in August, I'll be fine. I just need to get clean, I'll stay sitting while I do it, all right?"
dead_black_eyes: "Ange et Demon" (Personne ne sait ce que vraiment je suis)

[personal profile] dead_black_eyes 2015-02-16 05:22 am (UTC)(link)
It takes a lot not to succumb to the way his cramped legs are crying when Cesar lets him go and he has to put his weight on them again completely. Lazarus knows, however, that to stagger would be to get that same frightened, clutching reaction from the other man, and probably an unwillingness to let him tend to the least glamorous inevitabilities of being isolated and bound in a broom closet while slipping in and out of consciousness for multiple days.

He grabs another plastic bag and a roll of tape before nodding and hurrying across the hall. He needs no instruction, hastily locking the door behind him. Immediately, the sink begins running; so far, it seems like no one in the restaurant is aware of what's going on on this side of the store, which is some small mercy, perhaps. L would rather avoid the questions, the ambulance, and the attention, and when Cesar returns, it will be to a still-weak L who smells of antiseptic and is wearing, exclusively, two trash bags, crudely shaped into a pair of pants and a shirt and held together with patches of tape in strategic spots. His clothing, down to his steel-toed boots, is all bundled into the third garbage bag, which he's holding at arm's length.

"Take me back to your place," he says softly, a pleading note in his voice. "Maybe let me take a shower and lend me a set of clothes, I'd... really appreciate it."

His eyes are on whatever Cesar's doppelganger has brought back for him, specifically anything drink-shaped.

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