etrayalogs | [Closed] Speaking in quiet whispers, you hear it everywhere

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[Closed] Speaking in quiet whispers, you hear it everywhere

WHO: Sleipnir and Accelerator
WHEN: During Mission #011.
WHERE: A forested part of Etraya.
WHAT: ✨Revenge murder!✨
NOTES\WARNINGS: Psychological horror, paranoia, depression, discussion of torture and murder, murder of a child, Sleipnir has PTSD, gun and knife violence.

[He doesn't know how long he's been walking. This was supposed to be a quick circle from the apartments to the farm and then back again, checking on the place as the mission goes on and looking for any signs of the vent, but somewhere alone the way Accelerator lost the pathway. Now he's surrounded by fog and dense trees, occasionally tripping over a rock or a raised root. He isn't built for wandering out the wilderness, nor is his crutch, and he curses under his breath each time it happens. Eventually he can feel exhaustion worming its way into his head, and he has to take a break, leaning against a particularly large tree.

It isn't much of a break. For nearly this entire trip there's been a creeping sensation in the back of his mind, like something is off and it can't be explained by the fog or the nebula particles. With a frown Accelerator reaches up to touch the back of his neck, feeling the goosebumps that stubbornly formed and refuse to fade. Every so often he thinks he hears a footstep or the crack of a twig, and his gaze darts around. Is this supposed to be the result of some baser animal instinct coming out when he's feeling desperate, or is he just being paranoid? He can't tell, and it's one more nervous frustration on top of an already existing mountain of them.

This was a terrible idea. As much as he likes to be independent he should have reached out to someone and dragged them along. It would have been a hassle, and he would have been wasting someone else's time, but maybe he wouldn't have gotten lost.

Accelerator's head droops. How stupid is he? Why did he even bother leaving his apartment? There isn't anything useful he can do out here without his ability. He has his gun, but being a good shot isn't going to help in finding the vent. At this rate he's going to fail this mission, and then it will have been two failures in a row. He never bothered asking Aurora how many failures they get before Echo kicks them to the curb, he had always thought he had done fairly well on the majority of the missions assigned to them. It never seemed relevant. Now he's regretting not having that data. He draws in a shallow breath.

He is going to fail his students. Again, because this is far from the first time he's failed them. That Level 0 dying, the massacre caused by Operation Handcuffs, CRC's rampage destroying part of the city, the student protests and riots....

Why, why in the hell did Echo pick him? Why is he still here? Why couldn't they have brought in someone whose only skills involve being a violent monster?

That growing despair mixes with the anxiety that has him tense, and his ever-present self-loathing, and he debates giving up trying to find his way back to the apartments entirely.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Harold is right. Of course he's right, when has being violent ever gone well for him? Normal, well-adjusted people don't jump to violence as an answer, and shame overtakes his desire for violence.]

It wasn't the Anomaly. Not for me.

[He can't speak for Sleipnir or Clive. It would be easy to claim that they were in their right minds too, but then what? Use that as an excuse to go after them? Harold is right. He only wants to kill them because he's afraid, and violence is the easier path for him. It isn't the right one.

Fuck, why the hell did Echo bring him back? He curls inwards, not letting go of Harold's hands.]

I won't try to kill them. I won't go near them.

It wasn't entirely the Anomaly, [ he refutes firmly. ] But it was in part.

[ Harold hasn't confronted this subject directly before, mostly relying on his tried-and-true cat coaxing strategies of addressing delicate emotional matters only obliquely, but now it seems warranted. Refusing to admit how it happened is just as bad as refusing to take accountability. That's what he's thinking. But Accelerator also seems... raw, vulnerable, in a way he's never seen him before. He won't let go of his hands but he's hiding his face. If the cat strategy isn't going to work, then the kind of tough love Accelerator normally prefers might not, either. Maybe it's something else he needs addressed directly. ]

I will do whatever is in my power to protect you. [ Harold speaks softly, grip loosening as if to counter-weight the intensity of his words with a lightness of touch. ] From them, from yourself. From anything that may cause harm.

[ It's a promise he hasn't always been willing to make. Whatever is in his power can encompass so much more than he's comfortable with -- but he'd lost the Machine, and almost let the whole world fall to techno-fascism, because of that. He can't stand to face those kinds of consequences again. ]

[Accelerator is quiet, gritting his teeth. Despite his head still aching and fuzzy he remembers Lois's arguments. She had been persuasive, and Harold had been so steadfast in his belief that he wasn't acting entirely of his own volition that Accelerator can't bring himself to snap back. Maybe they have a point. Maybe it's similar to most other things in his life, how at the end of the day he still made the decision, but behind it had been thousands of scientific researchers taking years to develop him into the monster that he is today.

He isn't sure. It's hard to think about, especially with Harold's next words, feeling his grip loosen. For a few moments he needs silence to take that promise in and process it. There has only been one person who has ever been so forthright about caring about him before, and she isn't in Etraya. Hearing this kind of sincerity, from an adult no less, is something he isn't used to, and unsurprisingly his instinctive reaction is a defensive aversion. Glancing up in shock he shakes his head, even though he also doesn't let up with his own grip.]

That isn't a promise you should make.

[It isn't a promise anyone should make. He isn't worth the risk.]

I'm making it anyway, [ Harold answers with perfect equanimity.

He's old enough and given enough of his life to what he should do already that he sees no reason to waste what time he has left on it. He's going to do what he wants to do, at least regarding protecting the people important to him. Harold has always struggled with that line, with knowing how far to go and no farther. Now for the first time he's consciously shifted that line past where he used to put it, and he's not agonized about it. He's resolute.

And, though he doesn't make the comparison out loud, he is thinking that this is not the first time he's been in a situation like this, where caring can be immensely dangerous. The Machine had tried to kill him multiple times, even tried to kill John on one memorable occasion, and Harold hadn't given up on her. He almost had -- that last attempt to make the Machine was going to truly be the last if it failed -- but thinking of that now, realizing in retrospect how close he'd come to letting his own failings close her off from ever existing, makes him determined. ]

I'm not being naïve. I was prepared to cut off your network access if you appeared disoriented upon waking. I realize that hurting me accidentally or otherwise in these circumstances would severely hamper your ability to trust me.

[ Normally, Harold is all soft empathy. He doesn't show this side as much -- cooler, more remote, strangely like how he was under the Anomaly's influence himself. He can operate utterly rationally when he has to, he just chooses not to.

He shares that to prove that he isn't overtaken by sentiment, but returns to the gentler, patient voice that comes more naturally to him. ] And I know that letting me try to protect you is an immense trust.

[ Maybe that should sound counter-intuitive, but instead it sounds right when he says it. ]

[Strangely enough, it's reassuring to hear that Harold had a back-up plan in case his resurrecting wasn't a smooth process. Depressing as it is, that is the sort of mindset a person needs to have when dealing with him. As good as he is at retaining control these days compared to when he was younger he's still an esper, his brain was still deliberately broken, and sometimes everything is just too much for him to handle. A back-up plan, instead of relying on good faith, is pragmatic. Though he's still very reluctant, Accelerator looks a little bit calmer. It's a little easier to start accepting that he's safe, that Harold and John are safe for the moment, and despite having died, that in this moment he can be okay.

He nods slowly, making a concentrated effort to loosen his grip on Harold's hands. It's okay, he's okay, everything is actually okay.]

....... It is. [It's a huge leap in trust for him to not simply be shutting this conversation down, but he doesn't want to. As independent as he is, he doesn't want to have to suffer through dying alone. He did that once back in Moorecroft, and he doesn't want to repeat that experience. Harold is here, reaching a (metaphorical and literal) hand out to him, like Last Order did when they first met, and he wants to take it.

Of course, not without wanting details. He may feel a desire to trust Harold, but he is still a practical person. Glancing up, his gaze focuses and wanders over to the computer setup Harold had been sitting at when he woke up.]

How were you going to cut off my access? [... He also happens to be very curious.]

[ Sad as it is to see he finds that reassuring, Harold had thought it would be. So maybe he does have a reasonable handle on this -- not an assumption he previously felt comfortable making. In the meantime, he'd hardly begrudge someone wanting details about their own planned incapacitation. ]

I set it to execute on a timer based on the previous access you granted me. If I didn't disable it before the countdown ran out, it would trigger automatically. I judged you were oriented to time and place, so I disabled it.

[ He'd had plenty of time to think about how to handle it while waiting for Accelerator to come back to life. He wants sorely to use a euphemism like wake up in his own head, but he needs to be brutally honest with himself: he'd died. He can't afford to delude himself otherwise.

He'd died and Harold hadn't even known.

He thinks he should withdraw his hands by now but doesn't. Harold is out of his depth on so much of this, making his best guess -- which may be far from enough -- maybe the least he can do is let Accelerator dictate when that occurs. ]

[Accelerator's gaze remains on the computers. For whatever reason, seeing it helps, too. He isn't sure if it's just because it's technology, something of a comfort from home that Etraya is sometimes sorely lacking, or if it's because it's Harold's setup and the mechanism keeping him in line.]

Hm. Smart.

[As he stares, listening, that process makes him realize something. Maybe he's calming down enough to start thinking more clearly? He's safe here, so there isn't any need for his fight-or-flight reflex. Processing his death is going to take longer than only a few minutes or hours, but for now his emotions are settling and his heart isn't pounding in his ears, so he can push through.

He furrows his brow, deep in thought.]

Well, I remember you. [Why yes, he's scouring through his mind, assessing his memories.] I'm certain you weren't part of what I lost when I died, so that helped.

You shouldn't be missing anything, [ he informs him evenly, still partly in the mindset of crisis response and therefore able to deliver any news without apology. He'd just been waiting for him to calm enough to inform him; he hadn't meant to keep it a secret now that it's passed. ]

I purchased a death pass for you. Which is a distasteful term -- but I assume it works?

[ There's a note of question, Harold seeking confirmation. ]

I didn't think Aurora would deceive us on matters related to our well-being, but it would be good to know for sure.

[Aaaand that scouring comes screeching to a halt. Accelerator's eyes widen and dart back over to Harold, shocked.]

What? [What???] Why the fuck would you buy that for me?!

[Another spike of adrenaline, a reflexive reaction to hearing that points were spent on him, and for that of all things.]

[ He was half expecting this, too, but he still has to sigh and contain a stronger reaction. If Accelerator were an adult, he'd be disparaging of him acting so incredulous, missing all the telltale signals of growing closeness... but he isn't. Which is really the whole point. ]

I bought one for general use, but Aurora informed me they must be dedicated to a specific person in advance of their death, [ he explains. ] When you were legally designated as my ward for the previous mission, I assigned it to you.

I simply never saw reason to reassign it.

[ He potentially would have, in a calculated weighing of risk and responsibility, but that had never come up. ]

[Accelerator sputters, a reaction that would be funny if the subject of his bewilderment wasn't his own death and the declaration that Harold had done it when he was his legal guardian. The implication towards honest-to-god parenting has the poor kid's hackles up defensively.

He doesn't mean for it to be that way, and guilt hits him shortly after.]

That's — I.... [He falters. God, he can't even say he didn't need it, because he did. His self-loathing is getting in the way of accepting Harold's pragmatism.]

... Oh.

I don't want to make you uncomfortable, [ he says quietly, Accelerator's startled awkwardness making his heart twist in his chest. He sees through the reaction and knows what it means, doesn't take it personally. ] So I don't need to address it out loud. I generally don't.

[ His hands tighten on his. Too many times he's let this go unsaid, so he says it now. ]

But you are very dear to me. Currency is nothing in comparison. Time spent scouring the network for answers is-- is nothing.

You're worth much more than that.

[Well.

Opening his mouth, any words in Accelerator's throat dies. Hearing that Harold had spent his points on him had been one thing, but this? This is a whole other level of emotional vulnerability that he isn't sure how to handle. He stares back like a deer in headlights, his brain frozen and unable to process this.

It's terrifying. Dealing with negative feelings being harboured towards him is so, so much easier than this. Few people have ever cared about him in his life, and even fewer have ever said it out loud.]

..................................................................................

[He's just. Frozen.]

[ A tiny, sad smile forms at his lips. That's about what he'd thought might happen. It just seemed like the kind of thing he should say out loud at least once before he lost his chance. ]

As I said, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. [ Harold relaxes his grip and makes a quizzical sort of half-withdrawal with his hands, as if testing the waters for if he'll let him go. ] Would you let me get you some water? I'd like to tell Mr. Reese that you're alright.

[ And it will give him a few moments to compose himself alone, something Harold knows he'd dearly want for himself in his situation. ]

[Accelerator's hands twitch as he realizes what Harold is doing, and he's quick to yank his hands back. In fact, he shifts his entire body away, and it takes an enormous amount of willpower to not curl into a ball and hug his knees. Physical contact had felt... nice, but being who he is, with it and with Harold's words comes a level of anxiety he isn't prepared to deal with.

He needs to get ahold of himself. It's not as if he died permanently.]

... Um. Okay. Yeah.

[Water. Yeah, water sounds good. He should drink something. Chances are Echo makes sure dead bodies don't dehydrate, but he still hasn't had anything in 48 hours.]

[ It's hard to know what Accelerator needs right now, so Harold is only going off of his own best guess, and to him he'd want privacy. Maybe that isn't the right thing with the way Accelerator jerks away, seeming to crumple in on himself again. But paying attention to it is only likely to make it worse. Harold withdraws and leaves the room, letting the door stay cocked open so the quiet puttering noise of him updating John and collecting a glass of water is audible.

It takes a few minutes before he returns, closing the door again with a soft click. He hands the glass to Accelerator and pulls over his computer chair to sit beside the bed rather than directly on top of it. ]

It took me a long time to believe I did something good when I made the Machine, [ he says, apropos of nothing, the thought turning over in his head like a worry stone softened with time and wear. ] Years longer than it should have. I was too afraid of the alternative being true, that I'd done something terrible, to let myself believe it was possible it was good.

I imagine you know what that feels like.

[As soon as Harold has left Accelerator allows himself several deep breaths. Being alone isn't ideal (it's kind of terrifying after what he went through), but it affords him the opportunity to not bother putting up any kind of front. Which, rationally speaking, isn't something Harold is going to care about, he knows this, but the need to do it regardless is still there.

So he sighs, drags his hands through his hair, scrubs them over his eyes. It's fine it's fine, he's alive now and that is what matters. He's still slumped when Harold returns, but he reaches for the glass and takes several long gulps. Drinking something helps too, it's like another reminder that his body is functioning as it should. When he sets the glass back down he's quiet for a few moments, processing what Harold is telling him.]

I do.

[He might not be a good person (reinforced by what he did to Sleipnir, and the urge to hunt him down), but he can still be capable of good things. It feels hard to accept that right now, even though he also doesn't think Harold is wrong.]

... It doesn't feel like I'm capable of doing anything good right now.

We can't help our feelings, [ he acknowledges softly, folding his hands together in his lap and watching him with sad understanding. ]

But we also can't let them dictate our thoughts. The Anomaly, like the fog, exacerbated traits we already have, overriding our own judgment. I'm reminded of the expression the dose makes the poison. Normally we have all kinds of toxic things within us that we don't let rise to the level of poison.

[ Maybe this is a more palatable analogy for Accelerator than his previous one about having his humanity still buried deep somewhere, given it's framed negatively. To Harold, they're one and the same. And he does have a point here. ]

What I'm saying is that I believe restored to your right minds, there's no need for this feud to continue. [ He hopes that's reassuring. ]

[Feelings are the pits. He's spent years controlling them, shoving them down so that other people don't get hurt, but when things are like this it's so difficult. He wants to say screw it all and explode, and not care about the fallout. But....]

You're right.

[He can't. How Harold describes it, the dose makes the poison, is how he feels right now. All of the thoughts and feelings in his head right now are toxic and it's a struggle to prevent them from poisoning other people.]

Killing him would be easy, but it wouldn't be right. [He sighs heavily, reaching up to rub his temples.] What the hell am I supposed to do?

Unfortunately, what you're supposed to do is nothing. Which I know is singularly unsatisfying.

[ Harold finds over and over again that being actually sensible and cautious requires doing nothing for much longer than most people can tolerate. It's like the inaction itself burrows under their skin. For himself, only rarely is he overcome with panic to the extent that he acts impulsively, so he considers this an observable fact he's familiar with about human behavior but not one he's prone to. ]

Right now you should focus on recovering. I wasn't sure what the... process would be like.

[ He wimps out on saying resurrection, still uncomfortable with the implications and unable to force himself to face them repeatedly. ]

['Unsatisfying' is putting it lightly. He isn't an ambitious or active person by any stretch, but right now the idea of just... not doing anything, it makes him anxious and restless, and he frowns at this.

(He supposes dying is a good button to push if someone wants him to take action.)]

I've been through this before, and it's essentially the same as round one. [He sighs heavily.] I feel fine, and since you made sure I didn't lose anything it's as if it never happened.

[Except it did, he remembers it happening, and he has to live with that until he permanently leaves Etraya.]

No. It did happen.

[ It emerges from his throat and lips without conscious thought, Harold's tightly controlled feelings surfacing with a brief gasp for air. Suddenly he's impatient and intolerant with himself for his weakness.

Accelerator had died. ]

I'm sorry, [ he says lowly, avoiding his gaze. ] I was capable of stopping this before, but didn't.

[ Harold has been guilty of this exact sin so many times, it feels like he's reopening a barely-healed wound to be guilty of it again. When will he truly learn? When will others stop suffering for his inaction? He'd tried to contain his own guilt before, judging it inappropriate to put on Accelerator right after he'd come back to life, but it spills out now. He feels like he has to apologize. Because he is so, so sorry. ]

[It's funny, Accelerator can't imagine most adults from Academy City feeling guilty if he died. Yomikawa and maybe Yoshikawa, but everyone else? He's been such a thorn in the side of adults in general as the board chairman, and as a convicted felon he guesses most of them would be happy if he kicked the bucket. Meanwhile, here is Harold, not only feeling sympathy that a child died, but guilty that he didn't stop it.

He isn't sure if Harold would have been able to intervene back in San Francisco. They didn't decide on his full administrator access to the calculation assistance device until afterwards, though he was able to monitor the back-up computer... and more importantly, he had been Accelerator's legal guardian in that world. It's possible that should have been enough, Harold clearly thinks it should have been, but Accelerator dislikes the idea of him feeling guilty for actions he had made of his own volition (mostly, maybe). Is this a normal reaction from an adult?]

None of it was your fault. [He shifts uneasily, curling his hands] You're not responsible for me.

[He's responsible for his own actions, no one else.]

It's not about responsibility. [ He wouldn't presume that, wouldn't minimize Accelerator's own control over himself and his life, that his actions are his own whether it makes him culpable or credited. That seems especially important for someone who grew up so thoroughly objectified and dehumanized.

But Harold must admit to himself where his own short-comings are if he's to stop repeating them, and he knows this one in exquisite, painstaking detail. He turns somber. There's a fine line between acknowledging his mistakes and making others console him for them, and Harold isn't looking for the latter. He tries to get a grasp on his own feelings sufficiently to convey that. He's not thinking of the same chance to intervene as Accelerator is, and realizes he needs to explain. ]

What I just did, reading the network backlog, reaching out to Barnabas and securing a truce -- [ He lets out a breath. ] I could have done that immediately after we returned from the last mission.

I can come up with a dozen rationalizations for it, but I didn't.

[ If Harold understands Accelerator's desire to be implacable in accepting responsibility for his actions, it's because he shares that sentiment. And choosing not to do something was, itself, an action. ]

[There is a silence from Accelerator as he tries to come up with some other reasoning that excuses Harold's inaction, but... there's nothing. Outside of the usual self-deprecating don't get involved with a monster (which, at this point, he knows is a futile line to convince Harold with), his mind is blank. Harold could have been proactive and negotiated with Sleipnir's side, there isn't a guarantee it would have prevented any retaliation but he still could have tried. But he didn't.

His mouth forms a thin line as he considers this. It's yet another adult failing him, rationally he can understand that, but it doesn't feel that way. God, the dichotomy between thoughts and feelings is such a pain in the ass. When he speaks up he's quiet, more subdued.]

... That's true.

[It feels so wrong to agree. Maybe it's because he's gotten attached? Normally, this would be behaviour he would expect from an adult, but with Harold it just hurts. He shifts a little, adding:]

This is still more than what most adults have done for me.

[Harold has that going for him, at least. It might not be much, but to Accelerator it's something.]

[Closed] Speaking in quiet whispers, you hear it everywhere

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