Yuuya Sakazaki (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
espigeonage) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
savetheearth2013-07-24 09:20 pm
espigeonage) wrote in savetheearth2013-07-24 09:20 pm
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[Closed]
Who: Aaron elfstoned and Julien espigeonage
Where: LSR clinic
When: Today-ish?
What: Shooting the breeze. At some point, explaining the birds and the... echoes... to Julien.
A few days back Julien had finally been able to leave the apartment and be around groups of people without just staring at everything and babbling. The world is so different now. But he's learning to try and see it as interesting and beautiful and not just... awful... and figure out what the various colors mean. Studying the daystars helps, oddly, even if that had given him another 'pulse'. Hard not to feel a bit of peace now, looking at them.
Today, he's finally actually come back to the clinic. Getting there had been a trip. Being able to see every impromptu urinal not cleaned up by heavy rain does that. Being back is also disorienting, especially with the discovery that when he's when he's in and the MRI machine turns on his vision streaks.
...no, he's not entirely used to this yet, but Julien wants to be useful and work off the sting of failure after having to leave his job in IT - he's called in 'sick' too often in the last few months. Right now, with hardly anyone else here, 'useful' means deep-cleaning whatever he can.
The off-brand cleanser gleams with the same sharp clear hue he's seen in a recent fifteen-colored rainbow, even diluted with water and drying in layers. Kneeling careless of the effects on the worn jeans he wears here, Julien goes over various surfaces, again, with a sponge. He's gotten out all of the awful half-smeared splotches on the floor and walls, and he's done his best on the cracks in the tile and so on that they've so often seeped into, but as the cleanser dries it does so in patterns he doesn't like, lower spots last. Surely he can get it perfect, like he got the kitchen back home. Eventually. The doctors perform surgery in here, sometimes.
elfstoned and Julien espigeonageWhere: LSR clinic
When: Today-ish?
What: Shooting the breeze. At some point, explaining the birds and the... echoes... to Julien.
A few days back Julien had finally been able to leave the apartment and be around groups of people without just staring at everything and babbling. The world is so different now. But he's learning to try and see it as interesting and beautiful and not just... awful... and figure out what the various colors mean. Studying the daystars helps, oddly, even if that had given him another 'pulse'. Hard not to feel a bit of peace now, looking at them.
Today, he's finally actually come back to the clinic. Getting there had been a trip. Being able to see every impromptu urinal not cleaned up by heavy rain does that. Being back is also disorienting, especially with the discovery that when he's when he's in and the MRI machine turns on his vision streaks.
...no, he's not entirely used to this yet, but Julien wants to be useful and work off the sting of failure after having to leave his job in IT - he's called in 'sick' too often in the last few months. Right now, with hardly anyone else here, 'useful' means deep-cleaning whatever he can.
The off-brand cleanser gleams with the same sharp clear hue he's seen in a recent fifteen-colored rainbow, even diluted with water and drying in layers. Kneeling careless of the effects on the worn jeans he wears here, Julien goes over various surfaces, again, with a sponge. He's gotten out all of the awful half-smeared splotches on the floor and walls, and he's done his best on the cracks in the tile and so on that they've so often seeped into, but as the cleanser dries it does so in patterns he doesn't like, lower spots last. Surely he can get it perfect, like he got the kitchen back home. Eventually. The doctors perform surgery in here, sometimes.
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"All right, here goes." He sits up straight, hands resting on his knees, takes a breath, then breaks into a slow song in Elvish -- but a different dialect from what Julien's been taught. It's Quenya, high-Elvish, and beautiful. Aaron's voice isn't bad, not at all -- nothing spectacular, but pleasant enough. It's a short song, about thirty seconds long all told.
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The song... He thinks it's more Elvish, it has a similar kind of sound, but Julien doesn't recognize any of the words. Still it seems to dance on the edge of comprehension, like a dream vanishing as he wakes up. He barely blinks while Aaron is singing, unaware that he's leaning in a bit, and that his pupils have dilated. It's... nice. He can't put a finger on why it strikes him the way it does, or just how it strikes him at all.
When it's done he straightens, but it's a moment before his pupils tighten again. Julien licks his lips, doesn't say sing more, doesn't say don't do that again that was weird, and finds something to ask instead. "What does it mean?"
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When he looks for words he doesn't find them. Not the ones he needs. But it is, he realizes, almost the same as listening to that prayer.
"...they're important. I just don't know how, or why."
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A deep, deep breath.
"Do you know," he says, slowly, "I might have a theory about what's been happening to you."
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"Do you, sir? I'm guessing it's not the same as my theory." Which he hasn't discussed since. 'Angel' is kind of out there.
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His tone is not casual, not exactly, but certainly calm. His eyes are on Julien's face, watching carefully to see how this theory is received.
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-bird. Animal. If he's turning into a - He feels cold. What would- no. Julien's pupils contract to pinpricks fast enough that his irises seem to flash. No, he's not turning into a bird, that's ridiculous. Of course not. Of course not.
Before he speaks he checks that his voice is human, and measured. It is. His pupils stay as they are, though there's a rapid horizontal blink. "So the other me is kind of birdlike. Okay."
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"I cannot speak, of course, for how much further change you will undergo. From what you've told me, I doubt the 'other you' is a true bird as we know them. But...you did mention that he had wings, in that memory. It's safe to assume that if this goes on long enough, you will have them, too."
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He doesn't almost ask which bird. No, it doesn't start forming down in his chest as he licks his lips. Asking that would be accepting it, making it legitimate, and it's obviously not going to happen.
Instead Julien strives to match Aaron's tone and manages, though his eyes are still pinned - animal eyes, focused and yet blank, or else hard to read.
"He also has hands." Wait. Blink. Julien has only had three memories. One was weird and hazy and lightheaded. One was more like knowledge than real memory. Only the last felt truly real.
Had he had wings in the first one? It was... he'd... there'd been a cape, right? Had he had hands in the last one? If he thought back enough- no. Julien preferred not to think too much about the King, who had rather dominated that memory. Of course he'd had hands. Unconsciously Julien flexes his, half raised at his sides.
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He gives a shrug. "There's nothing more to do right now, not with the information we have anyway." Wait and see. We can do little else.
Aaron's personal feelings on this matter are still nigh-impossible to read.
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"Yeah. It's not - something that can be changed, so it's better not to worry much about it." He'd been so good at not worrying about things - still was in some ways, but these days... "You are right about wings, though, sir. They'll... make things difficult. Maybe they can hold off until cold weather, I've never liked big coats but I don't think you can hide something like that any other way."
He makes himself relax. His feet, drawn up as if he'd been about to stand, he stretches out in front again. Julien selects the least questionable looking scrap of bread and pokes it into the honey. "Cece won't kick me out, I think, but we don't really live somewhere isolated, so I'd be pretty penned in most of the time. Do you think it'd be better to look for places in the Dead District, or the countryside? For like... places to go."