Behold the demons that I freed... [open]

Entry tags:

Behold the demons that I freed... [open]

Who: Clark and Hope and Horatio, Clark and Scott, Clark and whoever wants to see him at this point
What: 5 steps back, 20 steps forward
When: Just after this. [mentions of choking and attempted murder behind link]
Where: Clark's Cabin, library, cafeteria
Notes & Warnings: None yet

For Hope and Horatio (direcly after)

Clark's room is elegant, done up in rich fabrics and dark woods, and while he has no bathroom, he does have a door leading to a walk in closet and an ungodly amount of exceptionally nice clothing inside of it. It's his room from the mansion now in Smallville, the room he'd grown up in, and for all that it had made him a bit twitchy when he'd first gotten here (it was nothing like his apartment in Metropolis, after all), he'd adjusted to it quite happily. Now, it was the closest thing to 'home' he had. Bringing Hope here, and bringing Horatio here for what he's reasonably certain is the first time, feels strange but not in a bad way. Everything feels a little like a relief right now.

He'll berate himself in the morning for being an idiot but for right now, there's just too much raw wound for him to even try and process it enough for reflection.

That's why he points to the chairs and the little table with it's decanter in invitation before wandering over to his own over-stuffed seat and somewhat delicately descending into it. Technically, he could still punch through a battlecruiser and had enough energy to go for a month.

Emotionally... he'd just like to sit down now. With friends.

For Everyone Else

Clark isn't hiding, of course, but for the moment, he's going to mostly spend his time in his cabin. He's just... not quite up for most people right now.

Those who usually have lessons with him of one stripe or another get messages sent their way. He ventures into the library to get a book or two to work on, but other than that (and the cafeteria of course), he's not much outside of his cabin.

It's not penance or punishment or any kind of sentence. He just... needs a little time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Scott makes damned sure to alert Jean so that someone from the infirmary can find Steve and offer medical care he's sure Steve will reject. It's the principal of the thing, probably on both their parts.

He also really, really, desperately has got to have at least time to take a nap - because he's so tired his reaction times and thought processes are tanking, and he realized it the second he failed to have an adrenaline response to anything happening on the deck. He also needs to take some pain killers and shower.

What didn't say - and wouldn't and won't - is that he very, very much would not have left Clark with Horatio and Hope if he thought there was much chance of Clark roaming around much. He'd told Clark to stick with one or the other for a reason. The reason for that is less to do with thinking Clark would pull something else and more fear that Clark would set off the powder keg that the ship is. He doesn't need to worry about Clark getting killed in revenge, for a couple of reasons.

But the timing is shit, and the barge is not exactly feeling all warm, united, and fuzzy right now.

Putting Clark into zero wasn't much of an option if he didn't want to make Clark and things worse, but wandering around? Bad plan. Bad plan.

So, not seeing Clark around or hearing anything terrible in the few hours before Scott turns up? Cautiously hopeful.

When he gets to Clark's door, he knocks lightly with the back of his good hand.

Clark's alone at this point, but... it doesn't really matter. He hasn't moved much from his chair, had actually slept in it for a few hours. Emotional fatigue does not, apparently, give two shits about what your actual energy stores involve.

"You know you can come in," comes through the door.

"And I'm not fucking anyone."

It's an invitation.

Yep. It's also reassuring on a number of levels. Things he does not want to walk in on - Clark fucking someone is right up there.

He walks in and shuts the door behind him.

"How are you feeling?"

He hasn't actually been having much sex at all in the last few months so it's much less of a worry than it might have been.

"Stupid."

"Confused."

"Awful."

He glances over at Scott.

"Tired."

Scott finds somewhere to sit and nods. "All right. Let's start working through the list. Staring with confused."

"Are we skipping stupid or just starting out of order?" he asks before sinking back into his chair and letting his eyes slip partially closed.

"How do you start with confused?"

"It seemed like the best idea for figuring out what was going on in your head and giving context to the rest. We can start with stupid if you'd rather, but basically I really need you to talk to me right now." He's actually smiling, a bit, but it's a pretty damned tired smile.

Yeah, he's noticed.

"Sure you don't want another nap first?"

He's reasonably certain that Scott's running on fumes and held together by chewing gum. He can smell that Scott's wounds have been dealt with, but he still looks like he could be knocked down by a strong breeze.

"Yep."

He is absolutely definitively, entirely, positive about that in a supremely uncompromising way.

"Why do you feel stupid?"

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 02:56 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-24 03:01 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 03:10 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-24 03:43 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 16:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-24 16:16 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 16:27 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-24 16:38 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 16:47 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-24 21:13 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 21:20 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-24 21:23 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-24 22:30 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-25 05:00 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-25 05:36 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-25 05:50 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-25 06:10 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-25 06:18 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-25 06:25 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-25 20:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-25 22:29 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-25 23:21 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-26 00:34 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-26 00:38 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-26 01:05 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-26 01:15 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-26 01:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-26 01:44 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-26 01:55 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-26 02:14 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

a_different_future - 2016-11-26 02:28 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

notrosecolored - 2016-11-26 02:29 (UTC) - Expand

Hope's good with silent invitations. She sits on the chair, forgoing the decanter because she's pretty sure that you're not supposed to mix alcohol and medication. One type of pain killer at a time, or something. She's also perfectly happy to stay silent in general, after her fuller greeting to Horatio.

Clark's room is nice and he's there and starting conversations has never been her strong point, anyway. For now, she's gotten almost as relaxed as she had been before the week of manifestations. Which isn't exactly relaxed but is...something.

Horatio sees himself as a man who has been getting used to luxury on board the Barge. The free food, the hot showers, everything about it offers Horatio a finer way of living than any he's experienced before. Despite all this, he is still, undeniably wowed by Clark's cabin. It's elegant, and opulent in ways that he's still not used too.

Still, he tries not to gawk too openly as he goes to take the seat opposite Hope, taking one last quick glance around the cabin, before looking back towards Clark.

"You had a lovely home, Clark." Because that's the polite thing you say when you're invited into someone's cabin.

Clark looks up and offers a wain smile at the compliment. Son of privilege is one of the easier roles for him to play.

"Thank you, Horatio. Please feel free to enjoy what hospitality I can offer."

A moment before.

"Its the least I can do."

One of those statements Hope feels that there should be some response too, just as she has no clue what it should be. She gives Horatio a look - he seems...normal. Or at least like someone who can say things nicely. He can handle that one.

"Do you have any food?"

So, Horatio is good at saying things nicely, but that is a long way away from actually being normal, and he doesn't know how to respond to that either.

Because his instinct is to insist that Clark doesn't owe either of them anything.

But he also doesn't want to talk about what just happened. Doesn't feel like it's his responsibility to bring it up.

"Should I pour you a drink?" He says, too soon after Hope starts speaking, so their words overlap awkwardly, then, quickly, to her: "Sorry."

Because he is the world's most awkward man.

He looks from Hope to Horatio, which brings a fragile smile to his face that's a little more genuine than the earlier one. He pushes himself out of the chair and heads to the little cabinet nearest the table, where he pulls out a small block of cheese and some crackers. There's also a cheese knife, which he brings over on the small cheese board for Hope to enjoy. To Horatio, he nods.

"And one for yourself."

Please. He feels like he owes them. He feels like he owes everyone, everything.

"Sorry," she says back at almost the same time because this is becoming a social situation which always equals incredible awkwardness on her part. It's not that she likes fighting all the time, it's just so much easier to talk to people when they're under attack.

Obviously, it's a good thing that a monster isn't going to suddenly break through the walls but it does limit her conversational starters.

"You sail on boat." She says to Horatio, not quite a question, and then immediately grabs a stack of crackers because at least eating should make it physically impossible to say something stupid.

When Clark canceled their lesson, Tris just sent back, "That's fine. Let me know when you'd like to pick them back up."

When he stops by the library, though, she notices. She doesn't ambush him in the doorway, but she does approach very soon after he walks in.

"Hello, Clark. Can I help you find anything?" She knows herself well enough not to open with asking whether anyone is alright. Tris wouldn't welcome the question from most people, so she tries to use it sparingly.

Tris gets a bow of his head and a fragile smile before spreading his hands.

"I'm looking to see if I can find any more crystals. They're books, but they're somewhat special to me. After all, I think I owe you more recipes."

All said without the usual robust confidence of his usual persona. He almost looks like he's in a bit of a daze.

"They're a little hard to find but I've had some luck. What're you here for?"

Tris is observant enough to note the difference, but she won't treat him any differently aside from watching more closely than usual.

"Work. I haven't done enough this past month, between the coma and... other concerns." Enough other concerns that Tris has flung herself into any work cleaning up the library. "I think I saw a crystal three aisles over. We can check."

And she'd be grateful for more people to cook for, with Rosethorn in a coma. "You're welcome to show up on my doorstep with recipes any time. Or Rosethorn's, since that's where I actually live. Horatio borrows my cabin sometimes." Tris hasn't slept in her own cabin in over a month. She visits it regularly, but that's all.

He looks around the library and it almost seems like something hits him as he breathes in deep and lets it out just as openly. Then he offers her a nod.

"Do you need any help with the library? Neatening up, I mean."

It would be easier to look for crystals if the library is clean, after all.

But he pauses at the mention of Rosethorn and Horatio.

"Oh. I... didn't mean to be inconvenient. I'll make sure to do that."

"It's my job. I won't turn down extra hands, though." She offers Clark a small smile.

Tris starts toward the previously mentioned aisle.

"You aren't being an inconvenience. I like to cook, and my foster mother is comatose so she certainly won't mind people underfoot. You'll never find me in my own cabin without notice, that's all. I rarely use it for anything now besides either the forge or friends who need magical wards." See: Bill Cipher and the risk of possession. Which was also the reason she moved in with Rosethorn in the first place, but Tris doesn't like living alone. She might just stay there. Her old room is in Rosethorn's cabin anyway.

"I meant leaving things at the wrong cabin," but he follows along behind her, looking for things to neaten. If there's anything large or splintered, he'll make a point of stepping forward and handling it. No splinters for him, after all.

"I'm sorry about Rosethorn, though. Comas are... frustrating."

"It isn't a problem. I visit often enough to blow glass or talk to Horatio." She really does like having a forge there, even if the shop was originally set up for her sister's metal work. Without Daja around, Tris has been heavily adapting the space. As Clark shifts some wood that would have been a struggle for Tris to move on her own, she adds, "Thank you."

"They are. And... I suppose I could use her here." Dryly, because she knows the sentiment is shared by most of the ship: "I'm not having a very good week."

It probably goes without saying, but there's a watery, but companionable, smile aimed her way.

"Likewise."

It's a little worse than just what the ship had thrown him in the last few days, but he's not going to mention it to Tris quite so easily. He likes her and they have an arrangement but the part of him that's aching right now is generally for a select audience. But, as he's learning, that audience seems to be growing.

What in the world is he going to do about that?

She wouldn't expect him to open up about it, right away or at all. Tris accepts people opening up. She listens. But she doesn't ever count on it happening, or push for it unless she thinks someone really needs to talk.

As for her, Tris has enough things bothering her that she would, as always, start with the ones that are least raw. Feeling powerless and vulnerable barely rates a mention next to seeing friends dead or the mess that was her own conversation with Steve, which makes that feeling much easier to talk about.

"I assumed as much." There's a measured dose of sympathy in her gaze on Clark, but no pity, and she doesn't ask questions. Crouching, she murmurs, "I think it was on the shelf second from the bottom... here!"

Tris has an excellent memory. The library is big, but she does try to make mental notes of anything especially unusual. She remembers the crystal because she didn't know what it was.